


The Path Not Taken

by Pepper (Zalt)



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Torture, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 12:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15243615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalt/pseuds/Pepper
Summary: Canon divergent AU -- What would have changed in the Rebels timeline if Arihnda Pryce had never set off the the explosives at the Creekpath Mining Complex?





	1. Divergence

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I attempt a fic, and the blame lies entirely with the "Once bitten, thryce shy" discord channel.

_"To some extent, the direction of one's chosen path automatically selects for the paths that may cross it. A warrior's path will intersect the paths of other warriors, allies and enemies alike. A worker's path will intersect the paths of other workers._  
_But as with games of cards or dice, sometimes unexpected crossings occur. Some a driven by chance, others by design, others by a change of one's goals."_ _\-- Thrawn_

 

* * *

Lifting the blaster, Arihnda shot him three times in the chest.

The agent collapsed in a heap, unconscious before he hit the floor. Arihnda pressed a hand to her head, wincing at the knives of pain shooting through her skull where the now unconscious agents hand had connected during their desperate fight for possession of the blaster. Stun. It had been set to stun, all this time.

Climbing to her feet, Arihnda tried to gather her thoughts as she stared down at the unmoving body. A stun would last several minutes. Time enough to think. Time enough for her parents to pack their treasured mementos before they fled their home in Creekpath to avoid getting caught in the Empire's attack.

Her eyes fell on the agent's comm. It was set with two triggers, he had told her: Signal One would take down the shield generator covering Creekpath, and Signal Two would trigger the explosives stored around the area. And this comm was the only trigger; nothing would happen until it was activated. She took a deep breath, waiting for her racing heart to slow down and cool deliberation to return.

She could not be certain how long the stun would last, so her first priority was to make sure the agent would not be able to follow them, or find some alternate way to trigger the explosives. Fortunately her parents were still busy upstairs, the relatively quiet sound of the stun bolts not having drawn their attention. She didn't know if they had anything like rope in the house and no time to search, but knowing her mother's habits there would be scarves in the entrance closet -- which looked just large enough to stuff a stunned man into, at least for a short while.

She grabbed his feet, pulling the unconscious man towards the closet, her mind methodically working through her options while she struggled to get him out of sight before her parents chanced downstairs. The ISB would definitely not be happy about her shooting their agent, and might or might not be swayed by being told that he was threatening her and had forced her to defend herself. Colonel Yularen was good at acting the twinkly-eyed, avuncular compatriot -- too good at it, she rather thought. Just like his agent, who easily charmed his way through the checkpoints on their way here, and then tried to shoot her. She presumed it was a useful skill in their line of work, sweet-talking people. Yet she had no doubt that Yularen would turn on her just as quickly and lethally, if he no longer saw a use for her. Just like everybody else.

Propping the closet door open, she managed with some effort to fit the unconscious man inside. A quick search located two heavy winter scarves, practical and strong. And one of her mothers colorful silk scarves, one of the few luxury possessions her mother had cared to bring with her from Lothal. Arihnda used the heavy scarves to secure the agent's hands and feet, then paused to catch her breath. No, Yularen would not be happy. But what were her options? Thrawn? She absently ran the smaller scarf through her fingers, feeling the smooth silk against her skin as her thoughts turned to the blue-skinned alien. She had the comm, and with it the means to take down the generator, allowing the Admiral his chance to take Creekpath with a minimum of civilian casualties. He seemed to care uncommonly much for mere civilians, and on the wrong side of the conflict at that. Why should he care to keep them safe?

She ran the scarf slowly through her fingers again, enjoying the cool, slick feeling of it whispering against her skin. Come to that, why did he care to keep _her_ safe? That had been his parting words. "Be cautious, and be safe." She had thought it a bit condescending at the time, perhaps a sign of his hopeless naivete when it came to dealing with people. But perhaps... just perhaps he meant it. Perhaps he would be the safer choice to ally with. She could surely turn the acquisition of the comm from the ISB agent into a deliberate gesture to help him, winning his good will. And his protection.

A low groan brought her out of her reverie. Well, now she knew how long a stun lasted. Hesitating only fractionally she brought the blaster out and, aiming carefully, stunned him again. Probably not safe to do that too often -- and Thrawn might be getting impatient to send his troopers in. Time to get moving. She snapped the scarf taught between her hands, then quickly gagged the once more immobile man and tied it firmly.

Yes. Winning Thrawn over would be her best move. The decision made, she strode off to hurry her parents along. She had a rendezvous on the Chimaera that she was suddenly looking forward to.


	2. Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Thrawn wins a nearly bloodless battle at Batonn, largely due to Arihnda Pryce and Agent Gudry infiltrating the Creekpath mining complex to get him the codes needed to take the shield down. Governor Pryce returns to Lothal and infighting in Empire middle management. Somewhere along the way she starts dreaming of a less stressful job. Fighting on the front lines, perhaps.
> 
> (I originally had another version of chapter 2 written. Then I read Thrawn: Alliances and decided to rewrite from scratch. No spoilers in this chapter, but there will be later. Things are also turning a little darker than intended, so bumping the rating up as a precaution. Mind the tags. Arihnda is not a nice person.)

The flight out of Creekpath was tense, but uneventful. There was one roadblock, manned by a lone sentry, but the Pryce family passed it safely after Talmoor convinced the man that they had legitimate business that needed attending to. Arihnda was relieved, but unsurprised. Her father did know his business when it came to mining, and they had been lucky enough to run into someone local who was on the same wavelength. Once they reached the area controlled by the imperial troops, Arihnda was however startled to learned that a search team had already been sent to her parents house to look for her and the agent she had arrived at Creekpath with. No matter. If the agent was half as good as Yularen had claimed, he would have gotten free of his makeshift restraints by now and left their house. And if he had not... well, she would deal with that if it happened. The man had taken a gun to her after all, knocking him out and stuffing him in a closet was a reasonable response all considered.

Arihnda saw her parents off to the spaceport. She felt a twinge of sadness seeing them once more flee from their home, but her mansion would be a safer and more comfortable place for them than Creekpath. And now that she was governor, she could see to their welfare properly, whether they wanted to retire and take their ease, or have a position in the Lothal mining business. There was still room for skilled administrators, if not in the most sensitive military projects.

She herself joined a military shuttle returning to the Chimaera. The launch was uneventful, the sky outside rapidly fading from blue to black as they left the atmosphere. But not soon after she noticed some tension among the crew. There was an exchange of communication, and the shuttle slowed its flight and assumed a high orbit over Batonn.

"What is happening? Why are we not continuing to the Chimaera?" she asked, rising to step forward to the cockpit.

"Apologies, Governor Pryce. The Chimaera is under attack. We have been advised to wait."

She could see the displays now, the ghost of the planetary horizon framing several markers indicating spacecraft in motion. A dance of patterns that nearly made sense, converging and dispersing and eventually blinking out. She found herself holding her breath, anxiety gathering in her body and her nails digging into her hands. She carefully expelled her breath, releasing the tension. The crew seemed unafraid, even enthusiastic. "Well? What is happening?"

"The insurgents appear to have made a last ditch effort to stop the retaking of Batonn, Governor. Three groups attacked the Chimaera. Turns out the Admiral had a surprise for them". The officer spoke with grim satisfaction as yet another marker blinked out of existence. "Looks like those 'repair barges' he'd positioned nearby were transporting a rather impressive amount of TIE fighters. Shouldn't take long, Governor, just the mopping up left unless they have any surprises in store."

Arihnda watched the displays with a faint twinge of annoyance at herself for not being able to read them better. Something to be rectified, once she returned to Lothal. As an Imperial Governor she should be prepared for all situations, including at least a general idea of how a naval battle was handled. A close cooperation with the Imperial Navy was imperative to the smooth running of a planet located in a sector this far from the core, to ensure quick and effective handling of any attempt at insurrection or criminal activity. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself in front of some Imperial officer, or to be forced into passive observation of their actions in _her_ system because she was unable to tell if their actions were appropriate and effective. The Emperor would have little patience for a Governor who allowed the incompetence of others to interfere with the effective running of the Empire.

"Governor Pryce?" Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the shuttle crew. "Message from the Chimaera, they have been unable to reach your personal comm. Admiral Thrawn wishes to speak to you".

Ah. She had turned the comm off for the duration of her stay on Batonn, not particularly wanting either the agent or the Chimaera to know about her choice to seek out her parents house as her first priority. She reached for it, fingers briefly brushing against the agent's comm with the shield codes as she did. Well, if the Admiral found speaking with her important enough to take time out from an active battle, she could hardly turn him down, even if it would spoil her half-formed idea of surprising Thrawn with her prize on the Chimaera itself. "Very well. I will take the call on my comm." She stepped out of the cockpit for some illusion of privacy, and turned the device on. "This is Governor Pryce." She squared her shoulders and took a measured breath or two as she waited for the comms officer to connect her to the Admiral.

When Thrawn finally spoke, his voice seemed to her remarkably calm and unhurried for a man in the process of leading the battle for a planet on the ground and in space simultaneously. "Admiral Thrawn speaking. It is good to hear that you have evacuated safely from Batonn, Governor. And Colonel Yularen has informed me your parents will be seen safely off the planet on the first available flight once we conclude the current engagement."

Arihnda felt as if her heart skipped a beat. Was that some kind of subtle message from Yularen sent through an unsuspecting Thrawn? Was he suggesting her parents would not get away if the subduing of Creekpath went wrong? She replied hurriedly. "Which will no doubt be very soon, Admiral. You will be pleased to know I have the codes to take down the Creekpath shield in my possession, as well as the means to take out a sizable amount of their stored explosives. As soon as this shuttle is cleared to dock with the Chimaera..."

"That will not be necessary, Governor." Her surprise at the interruption turned to dismay as he continued. "Agent Gudry communicated the shield codes and the placement of the explosives some time ago. The shield is already down and our troops have entered the complex. I expect the official notice of surrender at any moment."

But how could the agent have... he must have called Yularen or the Chimaera before following her to her parents house. Kriff. She ruthlessly fought down the feeling of impending panic. This changed nothing, really. The battle would still be won, and it would be in part because of her actions on Batonn. She just needed to play her cards right. "I am most gratified to hear that, Admiral. That the combination of my intervention with the locals and agent Gudry's technical skill enabled us to help you win this battle for the Empire is excellent news indeed."

Was that a hint of dry amusement in his voice? "The battle is not quite won yet, Governor, but victory is imminent. Your shuttle has been instructed to wait until we have dealt with the insurgent ships, then we will speak further in person. Now if you will excuse me, I have an incoming surrender to accept. Thrawn out."

After that, the space battle did not last long. Arihnda followed the last minutes of the fight from the cockpit, distracting herself from the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach by asking the crew to explain what happened and quizzing them closely on anything that was unclear. Once routed, the last insurgent ships fled the battlefield, chased by the TIE fighters until they made the jump to lightspeed, and the shuttle resumed its course towards the flagship. As the shape of the Star Destroyer resolved on the view screen, easily recognizable by its distinctive decorations, Arihnda returned to her seat and used the remaining minutes of the flight to gather her thoughts. The Admiral had won his battle, she still had one of her own waiting with the ISB.

***

Colonel Yularen studied his datapad. "A remarkably low number of casualties, all considered, and nearly all on the side of the insurgents. Some civilians were regretfully injured in the crossfire, and when the explosives caches were detonated, but far fewer than would have been expected had we needed to take down the shield by force." Bushy eyebrows contracted as he looked in the direction of Governor Pryce. "Despite your interference with my agent, who had followed protocol and transmitted the codes to us as soon as the triggers were in place. Which did us no good as long as he had to go in search of you before the all clear to take the shield down could be given."

 

Governor Pryce replied instantly. "There was ample time for both my parents and myself to evacuate without endangering the operation, as those numbers on your pad show. Your agent panicked and drew a weapon on an Imperial Governor for the sake of a getting a minute more to flee. A criminal and cowardly act, and one that would reflect very badly on your bureau should I choose to pursue the matter. Which, luckily for you, I have no intention of doing. It would cast a needless pall over the celebration of the Admirals grand victory at Batonn."

 

The Admiral in question sat behind his desk in his office on the Chimaera, long blue fingers steepled as he listened to the Governor and the ISB Colonel. His features were as unreadable as ever, his posture one of mildly interested attention as his regard moved from Pryce to Yularen. Then he addressed the latter before the disagreement could continue.

 

"The end result is what matters. The insurgency at Batonn has ended, the feeble remains of their rag-tag band of ships too weak to pose any further threat to this sector, now that they no longer have the unique leadership of Nevil Cygni, Nightswan."

 

Yularen scowled down at his datapad again. "And that's another matter. We looked for Nightswan, after the battle. He was nowhere to be found, neither among the captives or the dead, and we've run thorough checks on both the civilian and insurgent casualties. Seems the fellow managed to give us the slip once again." There was an odd edge to his words as he returned Thrawn's gaze. "Or maybe he had friends on our side, the net was too fine-masked for him to have gotten out unaided." Pryce held her tongue, feeling something passing between the two men, unspoken. There was a decided tension in the air.

 

When Thrawn spoke again there was a quiet edge of warning to his voice, though he did not raise it. "You have a statement to make, Colonel?"

 

Colonel Yularen suddenly placed his pad forcefully down on the desk, rising. There was the hint of hesitation as he glanced in the direction of the Governor, but then he visibly dismissed her and turned fully to Thrawn. "Confound it, Thrawn, don't you play the innocent with me. You know I followed you to your clandestine meeting with Nightswan before the battle. You damned well convinced me to trust that you knew what you were doing when you let him go on his merry way instead of taking him in. I trusted you, I let you run this show your way, and now he's gotten away scot free. At the same time, I have been informed, as that aide of yours, Eli Vanto, went AWOL. What in blazes am I supposed to think?"

 

Arihnda Pryce felt a sudden fury rising as Yularen turned his back on her so dismissively. And unlike Thrawn she made no effort to moderate her voice as she rose, closing on the Colonel. "What you are supposed to _think_ Colonel, is that Admiral Thrawn has done his duty to the Empire, and won a glorious victory. What you should _think_ is that this is your chance to share in this glory by giving your full support after the battle as you did during it. What you should _think_ is that making unfounded, sly accusations of this nature against the hero of the Empire after yourself admitting to complicity by silence in whatever inane accusation you are trying to make will strike back at yourself, and cost the Empire two of its strongest leaders for no reason other than your wounded ego."

 

"Easy, Governor. This is not the time for emotions." It was Thrawn who spoke up calmly before the flabbergasted Yularen could formulate a response. Arihnda forced herself to stifle the reflexive urge to snap back at Thrawn for trying to tell her what to do. He was right. She could not let her dislike of the ISB Colonel and his manners cause her to loose her head, no matter how satisfying it would be to take him down a peg or two. She forced herself to exhale, and locked her hands together at her back to enforce a physical stillness she did not feel.

 

Thrawn continued. "Though in essence, the Governor is right. This... disagreement will benefit none. And I assure you, Colonel, your trust in me has not been misplaced. Much will become clear, in time."

 

The tense silence endured as the Colonel seemed to be coming to a decision about how to respond -- just as the intercom on Thrawn's table chimed. At his acknowledgment, Commander Faros' voice came through, calmly. "The Emperor requests your presence at the Imperial Palace at your earliest convenience, Admiral."

 

Thrawn acknowledged the message and asked Faro to inform Coruscant that the Chimaera would travel as soon as the Batonn matter had been finalized. Pryce seized her chance, forestalling whatever conclusion Colonel Yularen might have reached in regards to either his suspicions about Nightswan or his disapproval of her handling of his agent. "You don't want to keep the Emperor waiting, Admiral."

 

Colonel Yularen knew better than to interfere with the Emperors wishes as well, and gruffly responded. "Agreed. We can handle things from groundside, no need to wait on that. But we _will_ speak again later, Admiral."

 

"Thank you, Colonel." Thrawn said. "Very well. The Chimaera will leave in three hours. Colonel Yularen, please inform me if my attention here is further needed in that time."

 

Nodding curtly, still looking unhappy, the Colonel departed. Arihnda lingered behind. If she had any doubts about speaking further with the Admiral, the incident with Colonel Yularen had removed it. Thrawn was in a precarious position, but she would see to it that this changed. For both their sakes. "Admiral Thrawn, a word with you in private, if I may."

 

"How can I help you, Governor?" Thrawn asked.

 

"This is not a request for help", Pryce replied. "It is an offer." She walked over to the side of the desk, straight-backed and with her arms clasped at her back. "This is an impressive victory for you, regardless of Colonel Yularen's grumblings. The Emperor will surely be most pleased to have the last of the insurgents eliminated. Who knows, perhaps he will even reward you with the title of Grand Admiral at your return to Coruscant. You are certainly destined for greater things than being fleet admiral of the Ninety-Sixth Task Force." Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she continued. "Fleet Admiral Sartan of the Seventh Fleet will be replaced soon. I have had some discussions with Grand Moff Tarkin about our current rebel situation on Lothal, and who would be best suited to deal with them -- The Seventh Fleet can be yours, and the opportunity to eliminate the rebels based on Lothal."

 

Thrawn rose as well. "Perhaps I am satisfied with the Ninety-Sixth." He replied dryly, those steady red eyes on her in a measuring way.

 

Pryce felt a smile tug at her lips. "Oh, I think we both know that is not so, Admiral. While you work miracles with whatever resources you are given, you have so far not had the means that enable you to use your full potential in the service of the Emperor. With the Seventh fleet, you can do anything you set your mind to. You can eradicate the rebels completely, rather than whittling away at the outskirts of the insurgency. And the resources of Lothal will be at your disposal, for whatever you need to serve the glory of the Empire." She took a step closer. "And I am not just talking materials. I have connections you do not, and the political knowledge to effect what needs to be done to facilitate this. The roadblocks you have faced on Coruscant will vanish, petty problems dealt with while you take care of the greater picture. I can do this for you. As you have seen before." She added pointedly. "Yularen may complain, but will know better than to tangle with my allies at court."

 

Thrawn looked down at her. She realized she was closer to him than she had ever been, in her enthusiasm at selling her vision of the things they could do together. Close enough that she could see the details in those alien eyes that only came across as "red" at a distance. Close enough to touch that insanely immaculate uniform, if she had wanted to. She stifled the entirely inappropriate impulse, and held her ground rather than falling back to the appropriate personal space, squaring her shoulders and pulling herself up, matching his gaze with exterior calm.

 

The Admiral took his time, visibly considering replies and discarding them. "And what do you get out of this, Governor?" She had the impression he already knew the answer, probing for her reaction. A familiar test. "I serve the Emperor in the same way you do, Admiral." She paused. Yes, he did read what she did not say. "And I want Lothal to be the stronghold of the Empire in this section. The academy, ship yard, factories, all that is needed. We will grow in repute and influence, and be kept safe by the presence of your fleet."

 

"I will consider this, Governor. We will speak again when I return from Coruscant. Safe journey back to Lothal."

 

***

 

Commander Faro had been overseeing the last of the clean-up and wrapping things up on Batonn, up to the point where Yularen's crew on the surface could take over. Signing off on the last items on her checklist and turning control over to her second, Faro left the bridge, rolling her shoulders and stifling a yawn once the doors closed behind her. She was looking forward to hitting her bunk, once the last report was written. Turning a corner, she nearly ran into Governor Pryce and the Ensign escorting her, presumably heading to the shuttle returning her to the planet. "Ah, Commander Faro," Pryce said. "Congratulations on your victory. This has been a good day for the Empire. I am most impressed with the work of the crew and officers of the Ninety-Sixth."

 

The Governor had rejoined the Chimaera after the space battle was over, but from the sight of it had not had much time to rest since -- Governor Pryce was in a fresh uniform and had cleaned up, but there were shadows under her eyes and a slight weariness to her step. Not much, and someone who was not used to Thrawn's constant drilling on noticing details might not have realized it. Then again, Faro had not had much chance for rest herself, and was feeling the effects of adrenaline coming down after the battle. No doubt infiltrating an enemy stronghold would have taken a similar toll -- thought Pryce wore the uniform of an imperial Governor, she was still barely more than a civilian, after all. Commander Faro felt a growing measure of respect for the woman she had until then considered little more than one of the many useless politicians interfering with military matters for their own convenience.

 

"Thank you, Governor." Faro glanced to the Ensign, and made a decision, looking back to the Governor. "May I walk you to your shuttle?" At the Governors agreement, Faro dismissed the Ensign, and fell in beside Pryce. "I hear we can thank you for some of the ease of the operation on Batonn. You assisted the ISB in taking the Creekpath shield down, enabling a fast victory with minimal casualties, compared to what a full assault would have cost us."

 

Governor Pryce inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "I was glad to assist, Commander. As you know from the advance briefing, I did have connections on the planet that gave me a unique opportunity to act. I would have been amiss in not using them."

 

"Yes. Colonel Yularen seemed quite pleased with this in advance. The ISB do prefer less direct action." And the Colonel had been less pleased afterwards, it was an open secret already among the bridge crew that there had been some disagreement at the debriefing afterwards.

 

The Governors lips quirked into a wry half-smile. "As you say, Commander." Arriving in the hangar, they stopped outside the waiting shuttle. "Best of luck on Coruscant, Commander Faro. No doubt the Empire will heap accolades on all after clearing the insurgents from this sector."

 

Commander Faro inclined her head in acknowledgment, and saw the shuttle doors close behind the Governor before she headed for her own well earned rest.

 

***

 

That Thrawn returned with the title of Grand Admiral bestowed on him by the Emperor himself was no surprise to Arihnda Pryce. She had expected as much, but more importantly she kept in touch with her sources on Coruscant during the times she had to spend time on Lothal, so far away from the heart of the Empire where the important decisions were made. The Palace had tighter security than the rest of the government, but rumors and news still escaped ahead of the official announcements.

 

Still, to see the Seventh fleet appear over Lothal centered around the distinctively marked flagship caused a tension she had not quite noticed was there to drain away. The rebels were getting bolder, the general sympathy with their actions growing among Lothal's population. Imitations of the distinctive firebird symbol that was once only found at the site of rebel activities now appeared all over the city, and beyond, and the local security forces and stormtroopers were utterly unable to stop them. It gnawed on her, to have her efforts on Lothal's behalf undermined in this way. And it hurt the quotas she had been tasked to meet at the mines and factories. Injury, as well as insult. She had compensated as best she could, with increased security and the deployment of loyal imperials to key positions. Which in turn forced her to recruit locals to the less important positions once held by the imperials. Few enough were willing to work in the factories and mines these days, so she had instituted mandatory service for those who could not otherwise prove that their previous jobs were more important. Fortunately, with all the farms vacated to make room for strip-mining and other activities, there was a large untapped workforce of the destitute and homeless to choose from. And in return they were given lodgings and food. Not that the ingrates appreciated this.

 

The civilian population of Lothal appeared to remain happily ignorant or uncaring of what it meant to displease the Imperial center. They had not seen what she had seen, or had the experience of witnessing the Emperors displeasure by proxy. (A brief memory resurfaced of faint brown stains of dried blood spattered on the furniture of an office used by Grand Moff Tarkin when he had overseen the fight against the rebels from Lothal proper. Apparently the cauterizing effect of light-sabers did not fully extend to countering the effect of the carotid arteries of two necks being sliced at once, and the Grand Moff had been quite happy to leave the stains as a cautionary tale for the next visitors to his temporary office.) Governor Pryce had always been a quick learner. The Emperor would not be disappointed by her accomplishments on Lothal. If only she could finish off this rebel nuisance...

 

She met with the Grand Admiral in the imperial dome, in the new office prepared for his hoped-for arrival. With a day or two to settle in, he had already made the space his own. Furniture and tactical displays had been brought in from the fleet, as had what appeared to be some choice pieces of artwork, possibly trophies such as Grand Moff Tarkin liked to keep around his offices to impress the feeble-minded. Though somehow, she thought that was not Thrawn's intention with his carefully placed displays.

 

When the door closed behind her it became more noticeable that the room was kept darker and cooler than was usual either on Lothal or the fleet ships she had visited. She found herself briefly grateful for the solid material of her uniform, preventing the chill in the room from being more than a minor distraction. And a passing one, as Thrawn turned from looking out over the city through the window behind his desk and faced her. In the dimness of the room, his red eyes appeared to glow, as if they were reflecting the unseen warmth of a fire. The contrast to the cool blue of his skin was more striking than ever.

 

"Governor. Thank you for joining me. We have matters to discuss before our conference with Grand Moff Tarkin and Admiral Konstantine." His calm voice held the usual faint suggestions of a hiss interspersed among the words, and she wondered as she had before if this was some remnant of his native language, or merely a personal quirk.

 

She stifled an internal sigh. Straight to the point, no appropriate small talk. Well, at least it was efficient. She abandoned her half-formed eloquent speech of welcome to Lothal, and went straight to business herself. "Welcome to Lothal, Grand Admiral. I admit, I had not expected things to get moving quite this soon. Is there some urgency that has caused this rush for a briefing?"

 

He inclined his head. "Indeed there is, Governor. After studying the reports of recent events in the sector, I can predict with a high probability where the rebels will strike next. And that it will happen quite soon."

 

Governor Pryce felt her eyebrows climb, and brought her expression back under control. "I had expected improved results from the intervention of the Seventh Fleet after Admiral Konstantine's prolonged failure to route the rebels, but not this fast. Will you send the fleet to eradicate the rebels after mere days in the sector?"

 

"Hardly, Governor. The group operating out of Lothal is a mere cell, and their loss will mean little to the overall rebellion. We must keep the greater picture in view -- this is an opportunity to learn more about our opponents, and hopefully gain leads to the greater rebellion. Unless they deem their next strike important enough to their long term success that they actually send the full rebel fleet. This is unlikely." He walked over to one of the recently installed displays, and motioned her over as he activated the hologram showing the Lothal sector, and focused on an area some small distance form Lothal.

 

She stepped up next to him, watching attentively as he pointed out the observations and conjectures that had let him to pin-point the next likely target of the rebels. As had been the case at all but the most formal occasions she had seen him, he wore no gloves though he was otherwise in full uniform. His hands were the same shade of blue as his face, the fingers long and elegant as he pointed out one location and the next, then raised his hand to touch a curled finger contemplatively to his chin as he finished speaking.

 

Clearing her suddenly dry throat, she spoke after a long moment. "The Yarma system, then. Shall I warn Commander Titus about the impending attack?"

 

"Do that, Governor. And ask him to report back on any suspicious activities. I shall expect regular and full reports from Reklam station. I have other matters to attend to with the fleet, collecting information on the leadership of this rebel cell. But you may contact me if the events in the Yarma system turn out to be important enough for a full intervention. Otherwise, the smaller contingent of ships I shall leave at Lothal will have to suffice."

 

He looked away from the hologram, red eyes meeting her blue. "This is the beginning of a longer campaign, Governor. Expect no bold strikes and swift victories. We will study our enemy at our leisure, learn what we need about them, dismantle their defenses and destroy their morale, then proceed to the final confrontation once they have nowhere left to hide. They will learn utter defeat at my hand."

 

 

***

 

The meeting with Grand Moff Tarkin and Admiral Konstantine had gone well, and Thrawn's announced intention of a long-term campaign against the rebels met no opposition beyond a token grumble from the local ISB representative, Agent Kallus. Yularen's doing, no doubt -- that the ISB kept a close tab on the planetary governors was no secret, but they supposedly had no direct authority to interfere with the civilian government as long as all the laws and regulations were obeyed. As far as Arihnda was concerned the best place to keep the agent was in plain sight. If she had attempted to get rid of him, no doubt the ISB would have found subtler ways to keep a tab on her instead. So she instructed her aides to report back on the agents doing regularly, and otherwise ignored him.

 

Not that she had time to deal with these minor distractions. Being an imperial Governor was a challenging job even at the best of times, and this was not one of them. While the initial, knee-jerk objections of the populace to the redistribution of planetary resources to increase agricultural and industrial output had been dealt with, the minor annoyances of complains, petitions and protests had been replaced by more insidious acts of sabotage and terrorism, led no doubt by off-planet rebels against imperial rule who thought an outer rim planet like Lothal would be an easy mark for their ideological warfare. Now, with the support of the Seventh Fleet, they would learn the error of their ways. While most of the Fleet spent their time away from the system, systematically hunting down and mapping the rebel presence, a sizable contingent had been left on Lothal and had immediately reinforced all strategic locations as well as started the implementation of re-training the local troopers to get them up to Thrawn's higher standards. 

She paid close attention to the military matters, taking time out to visit their training area and on rare occasions accompanying a squad out to deal with some particularly sensitive matter. A civilian she might be, but she took pride in quickly learning the military jargon and routines, and spent a fair amount of what was theoretically her free time reading up on military tactics in general, and the former victories of Thrawn in particular. She had no intention of letting ignorance on these crucial matters embarrass her in her interactions with the Admiral. And after seeing the way the troopers were trained in unarmed combat, she talked her way into joining the practice sessions whenever her schedule allowed. She had been proud of her progress in the Yinchom dojo on Coruscant, but this was another level entirely, and she left each session feeling bruised and exhausted, but with the warm glow of accomplishment joining the post-exercise high.

 

She sometimes took part in the interrogation of dissidents and suspected insurgent collaborators, observing the efficient ways the military had to extract information and confessions, unfettered as they were by the stricter limits on civilian law enforcement. Of particular fascination was a device fabricated especially for the purpose of enforcing compliance -- by administering precisely measured shocks of energy to a captive strapped into a table that at first glance might be taken for medical equipment. Non-lethal, but painful enough to induce unconsciousness if not precisely calibrated and controlled to keep the object conscious and capable of response.

 

The first time Pryce saw it used was... enlightening. Patrolling stormtroopers conducting random searches of the merchants in Capital City had found a crate topped with meiloorun fruit that on being overturned had revealed cylindrical metal boxes that contained chemicals that could be used to construct simple explosives. The merchant proprietors protestations of innocence beggared belief, but she had remained obstinate throughout weeks of intensive questioning, claiming to know nothing of the chemicals or the origin of the crate. Such a clear rebel link could not be ignored, and Pryce finally ran out of patience and demanded the suspect be put through enhanced interrogation tactics in her presence. Her periodic full report to Tarkin was due soon, and she would _not_ risk his displeasure by letting a rebel suspect stubbornly withhold vital information.

 

The disheveled woman, dressed in dingy prison fatigues that had become loose over the intervening weeks, was brought into the interrogation room and strapped to the spotless frame of the interrogation device, sensors placed on her head and chest and the sleeves of her shabby tunic folded up to leave her underarms bare. The air smelled faintly of disinfectants, suggesting in a subtler way than stains of blood would have that the device had seen recent and intensive use. Pryce watched from the sidelines as the interrogators went through the motions of calibrating and testing their equipment, explaining in clinical detail to their prisoner what each setting and control would do. A small black droid hummed quietly to itself nearby, an oddly anachronistic syringe in one of its manipulators. At one point the droid was brought forward, and the effect of the content of the syringe explained to the prisoner in the same matter of fact way as the rest of the equipment. The woman looked pale and frightened, but determined not to cooperate. She clenched her mouth shut, refusing to respond to even simple questions about her name and occupation. And then the true interrogation started.

 

Pryce found herself holding her breath as the black droid floated forward at a leisurely pace, humming louder as it directed the wicked-looking needle of the syringe into the prisoners arm. Something to reduce inhibitions rather than inflict pain, but still... Pryce shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other as the interrogators resumed their task, repeating the same questions over and over. Still, no useful answers. Arihnda clenched her hands, nails biting into the palm. The Empire did not abide failure. And of more immediate concern, _Tarkin_ did not abide failure, or any sign of weakness. Governor Pryce had been on Coruscant at a summons from the Emperor when that... unfortunate incident with Minister Tua happened, supposedly at Rebel hands, but also rather conspicuously right after Tarkin had arrived to take control of the planet. It could have been her dying in that explosion instead of Tua, had she still been on Lothal, had she not managed to gain some amount of favor with the Emperor before her return. It could still be her. She looked from the uselessly babbling woman to the control pad lying ready next to the interrogators, and finally snapped at them. "Enough of this. Get on with it."

 

The interrogators exchanged a brief glance before one of them nodded and picked up the controls. "Yes, Governor." The mobile probe attached to the interrogation frame sputtered into electric life, throwing white sparks in stark contrast to the dim light of the room as it swung down and made contact. The result was nearly immediate, screams of agony filling the small room after a few seconds of initial silent resistance by the suspect.

 

As the interrogators took down the prisoners statement, chasing down every last piece of information she could give them, Pryce exhaled in relief. The woman was clearly saying anything the interrogators wanted her to, anything that would make the interrogation stop, but as long as she gave some names that could be offered up as culprits it would be enough. A public execution, perhaps, some grand gesture to demonstrate the strength of the Empire -- it would send a powerful signal. It would surely please Grand Moff Tarkin.

 

A restless energy still hummed through her veins, warring with the sense of relief. Arihnda went over to pick up the now discarded control pad. The probe had been left on stand-by, the occasional sparkle a constant reminder of what would happen if the prisoner did not continue to cooperate. Arihnda ran her fingers lightly around the frame of the pad, watching the display. She hovered her index finger a brief distance over the activation icon. Such a tiny little touch needed, and such an intense effect... With a faint exhalation she removed her finger, and carefully placed the pad back down. Perhaps some day she would try it herself. If an appropriate situation arose.

 

***

 

Rebel interrogations aside, the usual civilian issues also needed dealing with. Though she had surrounded herself with enthusiastic and capable aides and staff, there was still a limit to what she could trust them to do. She knuckled down to work, reading endless reams of reports, double-checking figures and verifying the information gathered by her underlings. Any suspicious deviations from norm or gaps in the data needed to be seen to promptly and efficiently, both for the sake of planetary security in the face of possible insurrection, and to ensure she would meet and preferably surpass the quotas of production set for her government. And there were still local people of some importance that needed handling -- the people of Lothal were set in their way of doing things, and her being a native of the planet would not matter much if proper forms were not followed.

So there were meetings, and parties, and celebrations, and earnest conferences under four eyes. She pressed hands, held speeches to glorify the Lothal youth who chose to serve the Empire, and organized celebrations to show the populace the glory of the Empire. And sometimes, as necessary, applied the necessary amount of pressure to deal with those who could not be convinced to peacefully see the greater good. The farmers in particular tended not to listen to reason, and she swiftly learned not to try to accommodate their frustratingly provincial views on proper production. Impounding the farms of the more stiff-necked farmers taught everyone a lesson, and ensured a steady flow of workers to the new factories being built all over Lothal. She paid special attention to the new factory that was raised on instruction from the Grand Admiral himself. Officially to produce speeders and walkers and other ground units, but unofficially the host of a grand project that had the potential to revolutionize the military.

 

Things started falling into place as the months passed, production at record heights and the population reasonably pacified. Not enough to let her guard down or let up on the pressure, but enough so that when Agent Kallus appeared with a claim that an urgent matter required her attention off planet, she was inclined to allow him into her office and listen to his story.

 

"Agent Kallus. What is urgent enough to bring you here in person?" She leaned back in her chair, not bothering to rise as she contemplated him. Stiff and proper as usual, picture-perfectly at attention in his dark uniform, she still thought she detected the hint of disdain in those honey-colored eyes.

 

"Governor Pryce." He spoke precisely, hiding whatever showed in his eyes from his voice. An accomplished actor, as the agent on Batonn had been. She felt a sour taste in her mouth at the thought, keeping her face neutrally interested with some effort. Kallus continued. "We have received a tip from a reliable source that cadets in pilot training at the Skystrike Academy are planning to defect to the rebels. Their exact identities are not known, but the time when they will act is sometime in the very immediate future. I intend to go to Skystrike to investigate and intervene before they can act. As the Academy in times of peace falls under the domain of the Governor, I require permission to act under your authority."

 

_Oh, he would like that, wouldn't he_ , Arihnda thought. Siphoning off her status and power. But as much as she disliked him, he was right that the situation needed dealing with, and promptly. It would reflect extremely badly on her if she allowed cadets with military training to defect from her system to strengthen the rebels, and this could not be allowed. There was always somebody else ready and eager to take on the job of a failed Imperial Governor, and the process of getting rid of the failed one swift and uncompromising, as she knew only too well. The decision made, she rose. "Oh, we can do better than that, Agent Kallus. I will go to Skystrike myself. You can brief me along the way." She savored the brief look of surprise and stifled protest on his face as she strode past him to instruct her staff on what to do in her absence.

 

***

 

Instructor Goran was not pleased to see the Governor and the ISB agent making an unscheduled visit to his Academy, but had no choice but to cooperate with their investigation. Between them, Pryce and Kallus narrowed down the suspects to a small group of pilot hopefuls, and set a trap to draw them out. Arihnda took particular pleasure in recycling a tactic she had read about in her recent studies -- nothing that would have fooled an experienced fighter pilot, perhaps, but these were raw cadets with the usual young pilot wannabe's overconfidence and delusions of immortality. And they fell for her little trap, tinny cries of anguish coming across the comm as their clandestinely sabotaged fighters fell apart around them, leaving them in little more than metal pods drifting helplessly through space.

 

Pryce looked at the tactical screen, where another marker had appeared, and quickly been identified as hostile. The Rebels were attempting to intervene, no doubt to extract their mole from among the cadets. More the fools, they. She would take particular enjoyment in being the one to personally teach them the error of their ways.

 

"Captain, destroy one of the pods", she ordered. The disappearance of a blinking marker from one moment to the next was an oddly unsatisfactory result of her order, but that was not important. More so, that the freighter the rebels were using had been close enough that they would have seen the devastation first hand. And apparently it had helped break their spirit, as the rebel ship took flight still pursued by the intact academy fighters.

 

Far more satisfying was seeing the captive cadets once they were brought in, kneeling and under guard in an interrogation cell. A sorry lot of misguided, naive children, easily duped into betraying their would-be rescuer and rebel plant at the Academy.

 

"Sabine Wren." She let each word linger, deliberately projecting the content of her datapad where the girl could see the image of herself along the data of her earlier stint in another academy. The projection had brighter colored hair and a less furious expression, but was very recognizably her. "You are far too versed in imperial protocol to not have been an imperial cadet. And now you've come home, little mandalorian."

 

The mandalorians had a reputation as fierce, fearless warriors that had reached even Lothal. Pryce wondered what it would take for one of them to break. The interrogation cell had the familiar, standard interrogation device she knew from the imperial dome on Lothal, and she looked forward to finding out, taunting the girl as she sent the other traitorous cadets off to deal with later.

 

\-- An anticipation that was foiled as the rebel somehow, impossibly broke free from her fetters, knocking out the two stormtroopers attempting to secure her before they knew what had happened. Pryce reacted automatically, deflecting a stray shot from a felled trooper with her datapad before falling instinctively into combat stance, heart rate increasing and the world narrowing until it was only her, and the girl. Punch. Countermove. Knee to the stomach. The rebel fell back briefly, clutching her middle, a surprising hint of laughter in her voice as she commented. "Not bad!".

 

"The Empire taught me well." Arihnda felt a swell of pride as she paused to respond. At least these rebels knew their betters. Then the combat resumed, a flurry of blows and countermoves bringing them closer to the active interrogation device crackling and sparking in stand-by mode.

 

"My clan taught me better!" And moving too swiftly for Pryce to react, the rebel girl launched a whirlwind attack. Arihnda was driven off balance, and pushed back until her back impacted painfully with a metal object a second before an intense bolt of shocking pain wracked the Governors body, until everything went dark.

 

***

 

When she returned to consciousness under the care of an academy medic, it was already too late. The traitors had managed to evade the lock-down of the entire Academy and made their escape. It was a bitter defeat only marginally softened by the knowledge that she had at least taken out one of them by having his pod shot down, and that ultimate blame for the failure rested with Academy command and Agent Kallus who had failed to stop the former cadets while Governor Pryce was unconscious. Swallowing her disappointment, she ordered Instructor Goran and Captain Vult Skerris to submit detailed reports on everything that had happened to her office, sparing no details. Returning grimly to her shuttle for the return flight to Lothal, she reminded herself that this was only one minor battle lost, and that, as Admiral Thrawn would frequently point out, the information gained might ultimately be what they needed to win the greater war. It was a shallow comfort, but she clung to it, determined to salvage something from the fiasco.

 

Returning to Lothal, she threw herself with renewed energy into increasing the output of the planet further, no matter what the cost. More than ever, it was vital that Coruscant would be convinced of the unique importance of Lothal and its value to the Empire. And more importantly, of her unique value. The failure at Skystrike had left her rattled, fearful that this might be the crack in the armor that an enemy could use to turn Coruscant against her and usurp her place.

 

 

***

 

Governor Pryce had been pleased with her progress on Lothal during Thrawn's absence, apart from the unfortunate incident on Skystrike Academy. As the Admiral had predicted, the rebels had not stopped their repeated attacks on the planet, but the presence of his troops, as well as the retraining and new discipline among Lothal's local forces, meant that the effects of the rebel interference were diminishing. They were driven from one hiding place to the other, their helpers among the Lothal population rooted out and destroyed one by one. The gradual reduction of the chaos that had been before the arrival of the Seventh fleet enabled her to concentrate on her two most cherished personal objectives -- the increased production from Lothal's mines to help the Empire with their urgently needed raw materials, and most importantly of all -- building up the factories and supply lines necessary for Grand Admiral Thrawn's favored project. She did not know why a new type of TIE fighter mattered so much to him, but knowing that it did was enough, and she would do everything in her power to deliver what he needed. For the glory of the Empire.

 

All the more bitter was the realization she was falling short of his expectations. For all the pressure she had put on the new factories, for all her skillful wielding of threats and promises, the materiel produced on Lothal still fell short of standards. Far short, with a frighteningly high rate of defects, some of which resulted in the death of military personnel. It was with a mixture of frustration and trepidation she met with him at the entrance to the main factory on his return to Lothal. But also with a flutter of hope. What Thrawn set his mind to, happened. And... it had been too long since she had seen him last, his absences from Lothal prolonged as he spread the Seventh Fleet out to weave his web around the rebels all through the sector, patiently working to locate and entrap their main force.

 

The familiar white-clad figure of the Grand Admiral stepping out of his shuttle was a welcome sight. Less so, the dark duty armor of ISB Agent Kallus who was already waiting for them by the factory. She did not bother to hide her glower in his direction. She might have to put up with Yularen's obvious plant in her administration, but she didn't have to pretend to like it.

 

Still, Kallus had his uses. And today, it was orchestrating the entry of the Grand Admiral onto the factory floor where a score of workers had been organized into some semblance of rank and file as Kallus informed them of the great honor bestowed on them by a visit from the High Command. Arihnda took a step to the side as Grand Admiral Thrawn entered, keeping her expression carefully neutral at his deceptively calm and friendly words to the assembled workers. Among the many surprising things she had learned during their prolonged, if unfortunately frequently interrupted cooperation on Lothal, was his flair for dramatics. It was as if his appreciation for art extended to the theatrical as well as the physical works found in his office and on the Chimaera. As Thrawn slowly walked along the front rank of workers with the air of a commander inspecting his troops she admired his performance. Without ever raising his voice he commanded the full attention of all present, military and civilians alike. His was an aura of power and command unlike any she had encountered, perhaps except for Grand Moff Tarkin himself. But Tarkin commanded by fear and intimidation where Thrawn seemed to gain the loyalty of his men and women through inspiring trust in the infallibility of his leadership.

 

... And by the very exacting, almost surgical application of consequences against those who failed him. As the Grand Admiral calmly ordered one of the workers to mount a speeder recently assembled at the factory, she knew what was about to happen, and felt the breath catch in her throat before resuming at a quicker pace. A deadly silence had fallen, the formerly somewhat restless workers frozen in place as every eye was on the Grand Admiral and the treasonous worker now forced to experience for himself what had already happened to several innocent imperial troopers. The speeder revved up through the cycles, held in place in the test apparatus as the engines started heating up until they were red-hot. Thrawn's finger (ungloved, slender, blue, moving with the precision of a director guiding his orchestra) descended to the control pad he was holding, pressing the symbol that overrode the workers desperate attempt to shut the speeder down. No one moved to interfere. Arihnda could almost feel a sympathetic heat spreading upwards through her body as the speeder turned yellow, then red, then nearly white -- and then exploded, the noise of the blast followed by the metallic sound of components hitting the floor and wall as the speeder and rider disintegrated in the roaring inferno.

 

There was a collective gasp, some of the workers hurriedly stepping back from the carnage, others moving forwards as if belatedly attempting to stop what happened before the troopers guarding them intervened and drove them back. Even agent Kallus beside her startled with a sudden, audible intake of air. It felt good, to see his composure so rattled, and a slow smile formed on Arihnda's lips as her eyes drifted back to Thrawn. Still unflappable, still in control, he let the workers know that this would be the fate of anyone attempting to sabotage their work in the future. She watched him idly pluck some invisible speck (she did not care to speculate of what) from his immaculate uniform and flick it away as he spoke. And with that, she knew her problem was solved and Lothal's factories once more under control and ready to deliver on her promise to the Empire.

 

Moving in the reflected glow of Thrawn's aura of command she felt distinctly giddy for the rest of the tour, putting down agent Kallus' usual attempt at sly insubordination with brusque glee. Nothing could touch her now, not with Thrawn at her side. This was where she belonged. And by the time they left the factory, her mind was made up. She would do what was needed to end these prolonged separations. She would find a way to convince the Grand Admiral to bring her with him the next time the Chimaera left the system. The days demonstration at the factory would have a lasting effect on the discipline of Lothal's population and enable her to step back from the day to day management for a while, and she could do so much more for Thrawn and the Empire at his side. And she knew just what buttons to push. What Thrawn needed was an appreciative and qualified audience to admire his genius and listen to his insights. The captive audience of his crew would never quite satisfy this need. But she would.


	3. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arihnda talks her way on board the Chimaera, and makes it her business to compensate for Thrawn's lack of political instinct. She is slightly too successful, with major consequences for the showdown at Atollon. She discovers Thrawn had his own agenda in letting her on board.

 

The dimness of Thrawn's Lothal office was less pronounced than usual, the entire room lined in gently glowing hologram artworks of varying sizes and colors. The projector on his desk was currently emitting a familiar star-map of Lothal and the surrounding systems, giving off light in a calm blue color. That blue was nearly exactly the same shade as the Grand Admirals skin, as Governor Pryce could not help noticing when she entered the office and saw Thrawn apparently lost in contemplation of the slowly rotating display. She slowed to a halt at a respectful distance and was just starting to wonder if she should make her presence known when he leaned forward and tapped the desk to turn the projection off before turning to face her.

"Governor Pryce. This will be our last meeting before the Chimaera departs the system. I do trust the local situation has improved since our inspection of the factories?" He spoke softly, the sibilant sounds somehow more distinct in the silence of this space.

"Very much so, Grand Admiral." Pryce walked closer, glancing at her datapad as if to consult it. She had no need to, the numbers and figures clear in her mind from her earlier review, but it gave her a few seconds more to order her thoughts and reaffirm her intent. "Production has improved and the rate of defects decreased. We had a brief period of pausing and rearranging the process. Each individual worker is now responsible for personally testing their products. We have had to increase the number of supervisors to ensure compliance with the new quality assurance plan at all times, but we are already seeing a return on that investment." She put the pad down on the desk. "The numbers are all here, if you wish to review them."

"Thank you, Governor, I trust your judgment in this. The reports from Lothal under your government have always been exemplary in completeness and accuracy." He added after a thoughtful moment. "Hiring locals for this work is still not an optimal solution, but in the short term insurrection among the drafted workers should present no further problem."

Arihnda took the opening that presented itself. "I entirely agree. Between the troops allocated to Lothal, the extensive training your men have given the local security forces, and the recent, ah, clarification of matters at the speeder factory, Lothal is as quiet as it has ever been since the start of the rebel inconvenience. Between Grand Moff Tarkin's efforts in driving the main cell away and your own at instituting order, I am confident that my staff and the local civilian administration are well equipped to oversee the planet on their own for a while." Thrawn watched her silently as she spoke, one eyebrow raising slightly at the last words. She continued quickly. "Your intervention on Lothal has been of mutual benefit to us both: You are once more getting the quality and quantity of military matériel that the Seventh Fleet requires, and I am no longer in danger of falling behind on the quotas demanded by the Empire. Now I offer my assistance to you, in a more direct manner than calling in favors with the Coruscant bureaucracy."

She made a sweeping gesture, including the surrounding artwork, and ending indicating the desk holoprojector. "Though it is not something I find particular pride in, I was born and raised on Lothal, and grew up with this culture and its myths and conventions. My family's mining business required me to make contacts all through the local region, and learn enough about them to conduct successful business negotiations. And as you have seen from my reports, I am an expert with numbers and the acquisition and mining of data. Grand Moff Tarkin himself has found my services in that regard invaluable." She concluded, putting every ounce of conviction she had into her voice: "Whatever you were looking for in that map, I can help you find it. I do not question the work of military analysts, but sometimes what you need is to look at things from another angle, from an unexpected perspective. You need _me_."

A long silence followed her words, as Thrawn came closer and looked down at her with the same contemplative calm that he had turned on his map. It would take more than dimly glowing red eyes, towering height, and a Grand Admirals uniform to intimidate her; she had held staring contests with the best the Empire had to offer. But she could not entirely prevent her pulse from quickening and a faint warmth from gathering under her collar. It was a good thing she had never been given to blush easily; a good sabacc face was as important in politics as at the gambling table.

Thrawn's sabacc face was also impressive, but she thought she saw just the hint of a quirk to his lip before he responded solemnly. "I accept your offer, Governor. The last shuttle leaves for the Chimaera in six hours, will that be sufficient for your preparations?"

"I am nothing if not efficient, Grand Admiral. My staff have their orders and the practical details are being taken care of. I will join you well before then. "

Arihnda Pryce swept out of Thrawn's office, oblivious to the amused curl returning unrestrained to his lips.

***

"To the Emperor". Commander Faro intoned the toast solemnly, echoed loyally by the senior staff at the dining table. Governor Pryce followed suit, sipping from her glass with the appropriate amount of ceremony.

After a brief silence Commander Faro called on a junior officer who cleared his throat one or twice before enunciating his own toast with great care. "To ourselves!" and was met with an impressively coordinated chorus of "As no-one else is likely to concern themselves with our welfare" from the gathered officers. Pryce made no attempt to join in with that practiced reply, but raised her glass silently before sipping again.

Pryce did not particularly care for alcoholic drinks, neither the soft blur that initially muted the world or the unsteadiness that followed on continued drinking. It was necessary to stay sharp and alert in all situations, no matter how amiable the company appeared to be. But manners and rituals had to be observed, once she had decided to accept the standing invitation to the Admiral's table. Or the Captain's table today, given that Commander Faro was presiding over dinner while Thrawn was absent to follow up on some matters on Ryloth. Arihnda had to admit to a fleeting brush with annoyance when he departed the Chimaera so soon after she had arrived, but squashed the feeling before it could entirely materialize. And this would be an excellent chance to get to know Thrawn's staff, and Commander Faro in particular, when they were slightly more relaxed in the absence of the watchful eye of the Grand Admiral. Putting her glass down, she turned her attention to Commander Faro who was seated beside her.

"This is a beautiful ship, Commander. I have never seen anything quite like it."

Faro smiled. "It is unique, and not just because of the emblem. There have been a number of modifications of a more practical nature -- you may have noticed the altered turbo-lasers as the most visible change. If time and resources allow, there are plans for further improvements."

The chronic shortage of resources to fuel the Imperial war machine was well known, the constant battle between factions of the Imperial forces for supplies and personnel echoing through the halls of power on Coruscant and eventually ending up with the civilian politicians, who could see their fortunes made or broken depending on their ability to offer what was missing. Lothal was among the lucky worlds that could supply both doonium and other highly coveted metals and minerals. And due to some proactive thinking on the part of Pryce herself, the agricultural sector had seen a transformation from consisting of a large number of small family farms supplying a startling but impractical variety of produce, to large scale farming of the few specialized plants needed to make imperial rations for the ever growing fleet. The junior Imperial Academy on Lothal had not done quite as well as she hoped in producing promising candidates for the military, but not for lack of effort. She made a point of personally meeting each and every young hopeful from Lothal starting their education there, and heaping praise on them and their families. So in a way, Commander Faro's woes were Governor Pryce's hope for a continued prosperous future.

Pryce did not express this sense of hope to Faro of course, instead assuming an air of sympathy and understanding. "Keeping a ship of this size supplied with all it needs, far less an entire fleet on the move, is quite the logistical feat. I recall that shipping Pryce mining products was a challenge at times, at only the tiniest fraction of the volume."

"We have an excellent supply staff. Comes with the territory, you know – an army travels on it’s stomach as they used to say, and hiring the best supply officers is a pretty high priority. The Empire makes sure the fleet has what it needs, and our own staff sees to it that the resources are distributed in the best way. But yes, it isn’t an easy job. Quite a bit of competition between ships to get the best graduates for the supply track straight from the Academy."

Pryce picked her glass up, having another sip. "I hear that a period of service under Grand Admiral Thrawn opens many doors for those who seek further advancement. A seal of approval, as it were. How about you, Commander? Where do you see yourself going from here?"

Commander Faro raised her glass as if in demonstration as she said "Up." She smiled a little, adding. "The Empire always has room for more good leaders. A command of my own for a start, though I see no reason to stop at less than the full fruit salad." She tapped her currently two-colored rank plaque by way of explanation. A higher rank would add yellow to her existing reds and blues, thus the informal term.

"Of course, Commander." Turning the conversation to other matters, Governor Pryce made a mental note to look into the future advancement of Commander Faro the next time she visited Coruscant. She liked Faro, as much as she ever liked anyone, and saw no reason why they should not continue to get along while Pryce resided on the Chimaera. But holding the option to see the commander promoted off the ship would be a useful tool, either to put Faro in her debt or remove her inconspicuously if she turned out to be an obstacle.

***

Arihnda opted for a leisurely walk back to her cabin after dinner, making a detour through the less traveled corridors. The mild exercise helped clear her head after dinner, and she used the time to mentally sort out her priorities for the next days.

High on her list was dealing was Admiral Kassius Konstantine, the most obvious weak point of the Seventh Fleet. He was a sub-par military leader, who somehow had still survived to the top of the Imperial hierarchy, untouchable in his command despite his repeated failures. And more worrying yet was his barefaced disrespect towards the Grand Admiral. Konstantine's barely hidden annoyance and surprise on being informed that Thrawn had been promoted to Grand Admiral was not entirely unusual for Imperial officers who saw this newcomer's meteoric rise in the ranks leaving them behind. But if she was not mistaken, there was an added layer of jealousy and xenophobia complicating matters, not helped by Thrawn's equally badly hidden disdain in return. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Promoting Konstantine out of the way was not an option -- she was surprised he had made it as far as Admiral. Due to family connections and friends in high places perhaps, or some unlikely hold on the top echelon of the military. She reluctantly decided that dealing with him would have to wait until the next time she was on Coruscant and could dig deeper in a more clandestine way than putting requests for information through the military comms.

Which left her free to consider something that had been itching at the back of her mind ever since the conversation with Commander Faro. Something about the difficulties of shipping supplies to a big fleet. Her steps slowed, then she stopped, staring blankly at the pattern of lights in the nearest wall. Light and dark. Presence and absence. But… changing. The itch turned into a tingle, and the lassitude from the meal fled entirely as she headed briskly down the last corridor.

Entering the dimly lit cabin, she did not bother turning the lights up but went straight over to the terminal holding her copy of Thrawn's star-map and the massive amount of data needed to try to narrow down the options about the thousands of stars that were potential locations for the rebel base. Her data was not live as Thrawn's was, a necessary restriction to allow her to work with it in a visitors cabin not set up for secure data transfer at such quantity. A minor inconvenience, as she could sync her findings with his later and correct for the fairly minor differences.

She ignored the holo-emitter, the visuals of the map would do nothing to confirm or disprove her hunch. She went straight for the raw data instead.

The more obvious factors had been taken into consideration. The paths of hyperlanes. Locations of rebel interference. Distance from Lothal. And the other considerations of varying weight, such as the location of the homeworlds of known rebels, historical sites of previous insurrections, known hubs of criminal activity, potential sources for the supplies the rebels would need to carry out larger scale attacks. Even an odd outlier like a supposed rebel attack on a fuel refinement station using giant tentacled space monsters had been taken into consideration. The Grand Admiral had already proven the general soundness of the model by predicting the rebel attack on Reklam station to gain access to decommissioned fighters.

But that had been a flashy, desperate move by the Rebels. The everyday running of any major operation required continuous supplies of less conspicuous items. Food, medicine, tools, replacement parts, building materials. Everyday items like clothing and furniture. Whatever passed as entertainment among such people, particularly if their current base had been in operation for a while. Whatever special needs Twi'leks and Lasats and other known species among the rebels had. All the little, everyday, civilian things that would not come naturally to a military mind.

The safest way to provision would be to buy things on the grey market, with untraceable credits. Stealing what they needed would draw more attention, as would acquiring things from legitimate businesses. And they would preferably spread their purchases out, rarely or never visiting the same markets, and using an entirely random interval for supply runs. But these were ideal conditions, and that was not what the rebels were operating under. 

They would be strapped for cash, even with regular infusions from their suspected collaborators within the Empire. Their schedule was dictated by outside events. There had been frequent signs that they struggled to keep their ships fueled. Chances were, if they found an even marginally stable source of supplies they would return there with some regularity. Or… perhaps not a place. A person, or institution. Someone coerced or bribed into cooperating, or even sympathetic to their misguided cause. And to hide their tracks, these suppliers would have to not only stay away from the areas with frequent Imperial or legal civilian traffic, they would most likely cut down on their interactions with their usual grey market customers. Which would shift them over to other suppliers, increasing traffic in places the rebels were not.

She refined her model, looking for shifting patterns of trade over time. For darkness where there had been light. Some finds she rejected as unlikely, from her familiarity with the region. She barely registered time passing until a pressing yawn disrupted her concentration, and she realized that she was more than two thirds through what should have been her sleeping hours. Stretching to alleviate the stiffness of the many hours of concentrated work, she decided she had come as far as she could for now. And finally turned the holo-emitter on, watching the familiar blue starscape form over her desk. Superimposing her model on it, an encouragingly small fraction of the planets turned red, denoting the systems most likely to harbor the rebels. In a fit of uncharacteristic whimsy, she tweaked the coloring a little. There. Now the red matched his eyes, as the planets already matched his skin. She yawned again, and had just enough presence of mind left to ensure her data was safe and ready for later sync with the master map before taking her boots and jacket off, then sinking onto the suddenly irresistible bed and falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

***

Too little time passed before Governor Pryce was startled from her deep sleep by a message informing her that Grand Admiral Thrawn was returning to the Chimaera, and that she and Admiral Konstantine were to report to Thrawn’s office immediately to deal with a situation in progress. She blearily headed for the fresher, washing up quickly before getting into her uniform. Dragging a brush through her hair, she scowled briefly at the bags under her eyes in the mirror. No time for vanity. She headed for Thrawn’s office, liberating a cup of caf on the way and downing half of it before entering the office, hoping it would be enough to clear her mind.

Konstantine was already there, he and Thrawn were studying an image of a round-bellied transport that she recognized as a common type of cargo ship. It hardly seemed worthy of such an urgent meeting, but the Grand Admiral was watching it intently as he listened to Konstantine summing up a report of an encounter with the ship and its escort, now fled.

Thrawn nodded to Pryce as she took her place at the holo-emitter. “Governor, my apologies for the abrupt summons. I was already on my way back to the Chimaera when I was informed of an encounter in progress that may offer us a unique lead on the main rebel fleet, and immediately ordered the Seventh Fleet to divert to this area. A patrol encountered this transport while it was in the process of being refueled by a ship identified as the Ghost, most likely piloted by the rebel leader Hera Syndulla. The transport was destroyed and the Ghost escaped — carrying, I suspect, a person of interest. Mon Mothma, renegade Senator fleeing from Imperial justice after her open insurrection against the Emperor.”

Pryce straightened as the news did what the caf had failed to do, and snapped the world back into focus. “Senator Mothma? Her capture is a priority. If she escaped aboard the Ghost, where is she now?”

“Not where you’d expect. Captain Syndulla will be creative in avoiding our blockades. She will brave the unlikeliest path to transport her passenger out of the sector.” Thrawn brought up a new image on the project, a swirling cloud of yellow and orange with a heavy smattering of warnings marked in white aurebesh characters. “There. The Archeon Pass. A star factory nebula that our capital ships cannot pass. I have readied the TIE Defender prototype, it has the shields and hyperdrive required to pass through the nebula if needed. Our best pilot will head there, with a squadron of regular tie fighters. Senator Mothma will not escape.”

Governor Pryce studied the map. The area was familiar to her, a favored location for local smugglers to do clandestine hand-overs or ditch pursuers. Hopefully, the rebels would fail to do the same today. Mon Mothma’s empire-wide broadcast of defiance had put her right on the top of the list of enemies of the state, and the Emperor himself would be most grateful to anyone who brought her in. Most grateful, indeed. It was too good an opportunity to let pass. Thrawn saw no longer than the prospect of getting Mon Mothma to reveal the location of the rebel fleet — a worthy endeavor, to be certain, but he did not see the political gains to be made. Well, she did. She would make sure hers was the name the Empire associated with the capture of the rogue Senator. The favor of the Emperor would be hers. Thrawn would still have time to get his information out of their future captive while they returned to Coruscant, and get what he needed to pursue his own objective. It would be a win-win situation, really.

She met the Grand Admirals eyes, eagerly making her request. “Grand Admiral, allow me the honor of silencing her.”

Thrawn met her gaze, looking thoughtful as he considered the request, and she felt herself tensing at the delay until he finally spoke. “Very well, Governor. Take Admiral Konstantine to the far side of the nebula and wait there. When our fighters flush the rebels into the open you will be in position to capture Senator Mon Mothma alive.”

“As you wish, grand admiral.” She whirled around, striding out of the office with Konstantine reduced to following at her heels.

***

The two Star Destroyers waited at the far side of Archeon Pass for the rebels to be flushed out by Thrawn’s TIE Defender squadron, reduced to passive observation of the nebula until then.

Pryce had spent the time pacing the bridge, her first elation fading as the wait got longer and she started to worry that the rebels had somehow found a way to evade them. Thrawn had never failed in his predictions before, would this be the first time? Or had Konstantine’s crew somehow gotten the coordinates wrong, or had they not kept a close enough eye on the sensors? She stopped frequently at the edge of the crew pit, demanding reports and explanations from one crew member or another. She wanted the glory of capturing the Senator, but if something went wrong she would now be the one to carry the burden of failure. And the Empire did not tolerate failure. She kept telling herself it would be worth the risk, but the sensation of durasteel bands closing around her chest made her feel short on air and she had to make a conscious effort not to keep her hands in white-knuckled fists.

When the message was called out from the crew pit at last that the rebel ship was sighted she felt the weight lift from her chest, and elation filled her.

Admiral Konstantine approached her, reporting. “They have sustained damage to their core systems and it seems the TIE Defender commander has flushed their escort from the nebula.”

Pryce smiled in triumph. “Hail the rebel ship.” Once the channel of communication was open, she enunciated clearly and confidently, already visualizing in her mind how the recordings of this event would sound when she presented her full report on the monumental capture.

“This is Governor Pryce. You have been charged with treason against the empire. Now submit or be destroyed.”

Any lingering doubts she might have had were dispelled when the distinct voice of former Senator Mon Mothma replied “Very well”.

Whatever else Mon Mothma was, she was no fool. Arihnda listened the long list of demands that followed as the Senator negotiated her surrender, and recognized it for what it was. A last-ditch effort at stalling, until further rebel reinforcements appeared. She pretended to play along, as if she would actually seriously consider any of the demands. The Star Destroyers were meanwhile moving in on the Ghost, and the moment they were in range Pryce interrupted the stream of chatter.

“Activate tractor beam.” She signaled the comms officer to open the channel again once the tractor lock was confirmed. “Your requests are denied, Senator. Prepare to be boarded.”

Yes, that had a nice ring to it. Pryce wondered if she should head down and join the boarding party, or wait for the prisoner to be brought to her. Prisoners, rather, the rebel captain Syndulla would also be on board the Ghost. Thrawn would take particular pleasure in being presented with the Twi’lek prisoner, he had never made a secret of his admiration of that particular rebel leaders skill. It should keep him happy while she dealt with Mon Mothma.

Pryce was so caught up in her thoughts of glory and recognition that she failed to overhear the brief conversation between Konstantine and a crew member about two rebel fighters emerging from the nebula, or the Admirals subsequent dismissive order to shoot them down. By the time firing turbo-lasers and a shout of warning brought her out of her reverie it was too late — a fiery eruption from the nebula enveloped the Star Destroyer, the massive impact nearly knocking her off her feet as alarms blared and the screens swiftly compensated for the glare. A crew member called out that power was lost and the tractor beam disengaged.

 _No!_ But there was nothing she could do about it. A burning heat was filling the bridge as the shields overloaded and failed, wisps of smoke emerging from the side of the bridge facing the nebula, and the tremble of a distant explosion threatened to make her fall again.

“Evacuate! Send the distress call!” Konstantine gave the orders. There was no telling how badly damaged the ship was, but she was not staying behind to find out, coughing and stumbling along with the rest of the bridge crew as they headed for the less damaged side of the ship facing away from the burning nebula. The turbo-lifts were out, preventing them from reaching the main hangars. But at least the small shuttle available to the Admiral was on the same level, sparing them the indignity of cramming into the escape pods with the crew.

As the shuttle shot away from the burning ship, Arihnda saw the other Star Destroyer erupting in flames and explosions as well, the space on the lee side of both ships filling with escape pods and shuttles. The Ghost was long gone, as were the rebel fighters. And Senator Mon Mothma. Two ships lost, an unknown number of crew members, and she had nothing to show for it. She had failed. There was nothing left but to wait to face Thrawn’s disappointment.

***

When the Chimaera arrived and had retrieved the shuttles and escape pods, Arihnda lingered in the command shuttle until the stream of refugees through the hangar tapered out. Konstantine had gone ahead to report to Thrawn, grudgingly accepting her reassurance that she would join them momentarily. After the burning heat of the bridge on the dying ship, the Chimaera felt so very cold. She wrapped her arms around herself in the relative privacy of the shuttle, shuddering.

Being caught in the fire of the erupting nebula had unexpectedly brought back the moment at the speeder factory and Thrawn’s lesson to the workers. The determined look on his face as he forced the defective speeder into overdrive. The blast of heat and noise from the explosion. The utter cold control in his voice as he flicked unspeakable debris from his uniform and lectured the remaining workers on the consequences of failure. She had found it exciting then, to be in the shield of Thrawn’s power as he bent the world to his will. But now that will would bear down on her, and she was suddenly afraid. The wild thought occurred to her that she could start the shuttle, flee somewhere else. Find some way to shield herself. Or find a way to blame Konstantine. He was known to be incompetent. She could sacrifice him and save herself…

With a sigh she finally rose from her seat, squaring her shoulders and lowering her arms to her sides. She was Arihnda Pryce, Governor of Lothal. She would not hide from the consequences of her actions, or give in to fear. That is not who she was – or at least, not who she wanted to be. If she was going out, it would be with her head held high. Her choice made, she left the shuttle.

***

The Grand Admiral met with her in his office, which was unexpectedly bright and empty. The main light was on and the hologram artwork was turned off. She felt exposed, standing in the middle of the well-lit room, empty except for herself and Thrawn. He rose from his chair and came to meet her half-way, coming close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

“Admiral Konstantine has given me his preliminary report. The rebels escaped with Mon Mothma. The TIE squadron was decimated, though the Defender prototype was retrieved mostly intact. The Star Destroyers have been badly damaged, perhaps beyond the possibility of repair. The engineers will need some time to make a final judgment on that. Do you have anything to add, Governor?” His voice seemed glacially calm.

Arihnda Pryce unconsciously mirrored his stance, clasping her hands together at her back and standing tall. “That is a reasonably concise summary of the situation, Grand Admiral.”

“And do you have any thoughts as to how we ended up in this situation, Governor? And how it could have been avoided?”

We. The word startled her. But the mild surprise helped thaw her frozen thoughts, making them flow again. "We did everything right, up until we had a tractor lock on the Ghost. I cannot see anything we could have done different short of shooting at them, risking killing those on board as well as disabling the ship. After the ship was caught and getting pulled in…" She frowns faintly, turning the problem around in her mind. "I don’t know the specifics. It happened so fast. Someone was firing, and then the nebula burned. Erupted. We could not have moved far enough away to prevent the eruption from reaching the ships without staying out of tractor range. If I knew what happened to cause the nebula to explode… but I don’t."

Thrawn watched her as she spoke, his alien features betraying nothing. Once she dwindled into silence, he spoke again. “I have the report from Commander Vult Skerris as well as what could be retrieved from the log of the Star Destroyers. The Ghost and the rebel fighters went close enough to a forming star to risk their own destruction, causing the loss of most of the TIE squadron. The rebel fighters had a similarly destructive encounter during a rear-guard action against the surviving Defender to allow the Ghost to escape. It appears the last surviving rebel ships decided to risk themselves to fire proton torpedoes at the nebula that caused it to erupt."

Pryce remained silent as she tried to think of some way she could have foreseen this, some way to prevent it. Finally, she shook her head slowly. "That was not something I would have expected. Perhaps we could have moved the ships further away if I had, but otherwise I see nothing that could have been done differently."

Thrawn spoke. "It is consistent with their earlier behavior, if to a more extreme degree. I saw Captain Syndulla herself blow up her ancestral home rather than leave it occupied by the Empire. This is information you did not have, Governor Pryce. I agree with your assessment, there was nothing you could have done differently."

Arihnda realized what he was doing. This wasn’t a debriefing, he wasn’t trying to get information from her. And her relief turned suddenly, irrationally to annoyance. "I don’t need to be coddled, Grand Admiral. You wouldn’t tip-toe around any of your captains like this."

"But you are not one of my captains, Governor." His lips curved into a faint smile. "Fortunately."

She blinked, trying to make sense of the statement. It had the shape of an insult, and yet… "What do you mean?"

Thrawn watched her silently, and she recognized the faint tilt of his head as something he did when he had posited a problem to one of his crew and was waiting for them to figure out the solution on their own. It was infurating, even more so as she truly could not make sense of the statement. He was always proper and polite, and not given to insults. But what else could he mean?

When she floundered, he finally spoke again, slowly and patiently. "I care for you."

He continued as she stared back at him, stunned. "I would like to learn to know you better. When the distress call came in, I thought I might have lost that opportunity forever."

"I would not have spoken of this, if I thought my interest was not reciprocated. But I have watched you, watching me. I think you care for me as well. And I think this is something we might both wish to explore. Will you tell me I am wrong?"

It had been a harrowing day, and now this revelation. Her head was spinning. And she could think of nothing clever to say, no way to sidestep or admit or deny any truth to his words. Only a plaintive "I… I need to go. I can’t deal with this right now."

Arihnda fled the room. Thrawn did not stop her.

***

Thrawn did not speak of their encounter again, much to Arihnda’s relief. She threw herself into a flurry of work, refining her star map, keeping abreast of events on Coruscant so she could head off any political inconveniences heading their way, dedicating herself to getting to know the members of the staff better and figuring out what drove them and what they needed that she could give them. And most of all, intensifying the hunt for the mole in their midst whose presence they had suspected ever since the speeder factory. And finally, they had the hunt narrowed down to the point where they could take direct action. Once they did, Thrawn chose to summon the head of the ISB himself to join them in the hunt, citing him as the expert in uncovering deep moles.

Colonel Yularen's arrival on the Chimaera was a low-key affair. Commander Faro escorted him to Thrawn's office where the Grand Admiral and Governor Pryce were waiting, then headed out to take over on the bridge while they were in conference. Thrawn rose to greet the Colonel with easy familiarity, and Pryce assumed her best politicians facade, adding a polite greeting of her own. It was clear that Thrawn valued the Colonel's opinion despite their disagreement over Batonn, so she would put her personal misgivings aside for now.

Once they were seated, Thrawn spoke without further preamble. “The net is closing in on the traitor who goes under the call name of Fulcrum. Between my efforts and those of Governor Pryce, we have determined it is someone close to the top ranks of both the navy and Lothal, and with access to imperial protocols." He offered Yularen a datapad, continuing. “As per our initial communications, you are the highest expert in the empire at locating corrupt servants in the ranks, and your help tracking down this traitor will be invaluable. We have assembled our data for your perusal."

Governor Pryce watched as Yularen scanned through the datapad offered with a solemn expression. She knew little of the information was likely to be new to the deputy director of the Naval Intelligence Agency, what headway they had made in their own investigation had been dutifully reported back to Coruscant at intervals and no doubt intercepted by or relayed to the NIA. It gnawed on her that she had not been able to narrow things down further. No, more than that, she felt a dull burning anger against the mole, who was undermining her and ridiculing her by evading her best effort to track them down. When she finally got her hands on them… she realized she was clenching her fists, and willfully relaxed.

Yularen harrumphed after scanning through the contents of the pad. “Yes, this matches what we know so far. Hopefully a more direct intervention will produce the results we are hoping for. Whether or not the interviews with the candidates reveal anything, there is a good chance the mole will react to the tightening noose by acting out of the usual. Let us proceed.”

The first to arrive were the officers of a light cruiser that had patrolled the vicinity for several months, making occasional stops on Lothal for repairs and resupply. They had reported a recent skirmish with rebel forces, and it was not beyond possibility that this had been some cover for covert contact. Yularen did the bulk of the interviews with the captain and her staff, Thrawn and Pryce chiming in at intervals with questions specific to their more intimate knowledge of the local area. When the somewhat unsettled looking officers finally left they were no closer to uncovering the mole, but the pool of suspects had shrunk.

The same procedure repeated itself at intervals over the next two days. It was repetitive, dull work, asking the same questions over and over, with small variations to adjust to the people being questioned. None left happy, and tensions rose among the interrogators as well. Pryce did her best to cover her distrust of Yularen, and her best, when she wanted to, was very good. But it was hard to be completely on her game at all times, over such a prolonged period. And Thrawn and Yularen still had a silent undercurrent of tension between them after whatever conflict they had on Batonn regarding the now-absent Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto and the resistance leader Nightswan. They spoke amiably enough with each other, but being around them still gave her a sense of unease. She was only too familiar with polite words covering up harmful intent, and had it been two less controlled men she would have expected open conflict by now.

And then there was tension of another kind between herself and Thrawn after the Archeon Nebula. There was too much time to think now, her mind wandering during the interminable interviews, and in the waiting period inbetween.

Watching Thrawn and Yularen conversing, it occured to her that the Colonel was the only person on the ship beside herself that was not in Thrawn’s chain of command. Was that what Thrawn meant, when he said it was fortunate she was not one of his captains? He had his senior staff, and the eminently capable Commander Faro, but as long as he was in charge of the fleet there were limits to what his relationship with them could be. They might be friends, but only up to a point. A Grand Admiral could surely never take the plaque off and just be himself, venting or exchanging confidences or letting any of his subordinates too close. He could never show weakness, or affection.

The thought was uncomfortable. It was always lonely on the top, she knew it only too well. But that was the price they had chosen to pay. That she had chosen to pay, at least. Perhaps for Thrawn, it was not really a choice. Perhaps it was reasonable, that he might seek… friends.

Something anxious and hopeful coiled in her stomach at the thought, and she pushed the realization to the back of her mind again, focusing determinedly on the conversation at hand.

Thrawn finally decided to take a break between interviews to work off some of his well hidden frustration. After making a few final annotations to their latest interview Pryce headed out for a pause of her own, and realized Thrawn had left the door open to the sparsely equipped room next to his office that currently functioned as a gym. She lingered to see him go through his warm-up routine -- it was a brief break, so he had settled for removing his shirt and jacket rather than changing into full training gear, leaving him in the white uniform trousers and a black tank top.

Now, he flowed gracefully from one position to the next in his routine warm-up, steadily increasing the speed until he was ready to activate the two assassin droids that were truly the only opponents to give him a proper challenge.

Arihnda realized she was biting lightly on a finger and staring as Thrawn launched a high kick at one of the droids, and quickly pulled herself together. This would not do. She had the sudden terrifying suspicion that he had left the door to the corridor open deliberately, knowing she would follow and see him. _Watching her, watching him_ _…_

And following that memory swiftly: _I care for you_. Her suspicion solidified. All the things he had done for her. Letting her join the Chimaera. Trusting her at the Nebula. His constant patient attention. He did mean it. _Oh, no_.

She needed to think about this, but not now. She quickly left the short corridor, passing the artworks Thrawn had incongruously left on display there. She would spend the short break washing her face in cold water and getting some caf inside her before they continued. There would be time do deal with this revelation later.

The break took longer than she had planned, as she stopped by the bridge on her way out and learned of a report of a possible rebel incident near Lothal. As it happened two of the lower-priority potentials on the suspects list were posted to a light cruiser that had had intercepted a stolen shuttle. Faro had made the decision to summon the crew of the ship to the Chimaera right away. It was a chance to combine a look at what was more likely a common criminal than a rebel, with getting one of the low-priority investigations done with. The ship was docking as they spoke, and Pryce frowned as she realized one of the people in question was Agent Kallus. She had been perfectly happy without his lurking, smug presence after leaving Lothal. Pryce couldn't help a faint grimace, and decided to delay heading back to Thrawn’s office until they were done with the Agent. And Lieutenant Lyste whom she vaguely recalled being involved in some incident with an Alderanian princess.

She considered her options, and told Commander Faro to keep an extra eye on Kallus. “I want to be able to know where he is at all times.” Then she went to her cabin to quickly wash up and have her caf.

Once Kallus and Lyste were safely out of the way, she rejoined Thrawn and Yularen who were in better cheer than she had seen them in a while. After his meditative combat break, Thrawn expressed confidence they were on the right track. And Colonel Yularen triumphantly held up a datapad.

“I may have something. A coded rebel message was beamed from this ship right after an off-ship prisoner was transferred to your detention block. B7.”

Thrawn looked decidedly pleased at this new information, a cheer that did not fade even when the three of them reached the detention block and found the cell empty, all security in the block deactivated. All security actions and cell entries were logged, and it would be an easy matter to trace back the codes. “Colonel Yularen, please look into the security codes used. Governor Pryce, inform Commander Faro of events. Then rejoin me in my office.”

Thrawn left for his office and Yularen for the security section where he could gain access to the date he needed. Arihnda lingered behind and contacted the bridge once they left the detention area, rather than going there in person. She had a hunch. "Commander Faro, where is Agent Kallus at this moment?” She waited impatiently while Faro checked with her crew, and then frowned at her comm when she finally got an answer. “You lost him? Where?"

She half expected Faro to say the agent had last been seen headed for the hangars, but to her surprise the last time he was seen was exiting the turbo lift on the command level. Suddenly, she had a sinking feeling. Surely Kallus would even not consider… but of course he would.

Pryce hurried towards Thrawn office, her comm already in her hand, but dithering on whether to call. She might be wrong. The hunch could be lying to her, colored by her dislike of Kallus. Thrawn would not appreciate unfounded accusation. She moved faster instead. The sound of blasterfire suddenly filled the corridor as the door to Thrawns office opened, and out ran Kallus and… Lyste? No, the lieutenants uniform was right, but not the coloring.

She called out to him: "Stop!"

The lieutenant raised his hand in her direction, and suddenly the wall slammed into her, knocking the breath out of her as she collapsed to the floor.

Her sight was dimming as she fought desperately to draw breath again, sparks going off behind her eyes. Gasping at last, she finally managed to start struggling back on her feet. When a strong hand suddenly closed on her arm, her first instinct was to lash out and try to hit whoever it was… but in her disorientation she missed and realized that a familiar voice was speaking to her. "Governor Pryce. Easy. They are gone." She blinked in an attempt to focus, and saw that it was Thrawn who steadied her, and she realized he was looking her over, apparently searching for visible damage.

"I… I am all right. Pushed into the wall somehow." She concentrated, and the memory returned. "Kallus! I saw him! He was with a lieutenant." She finally pushed Thrawn’s hand away, judging herself steady enough on her feet. "Only a glimpse, but he was familiar -- did you get them?"

"They had reprogrammed my droids somehow.” Thrawn’s voice held a hint of strain and he spoke in clipped sentences. “Fled while I took them out. Shutdown code sabotaged. Called Yularen to stop any shuttles trying to leave, they will attempt to escape. This is our best chance. I will hasten to the hangar and hope Yularen and his men have slowed them down.”

"I am coming with you." She was not missing this chance, even if she was still unsteady and her vision blurry. "They will not get away."

When they arrived in the hangar, it was in the middle of a strange fight. Several stormtroopers appeared to be fighting… each other? Her vision had improved enough to see that Kallus and Yularen were facing off near the entrance to the hangar as the unfamiliar lieutenant she had seen with Kallus ran towards the troopers fighting in front of a shuttle that stood ready to take off at the rear of the hangar.

 They were just in time. Kallus launched himself at Yularen, who while well trained was still years older and more used to desk work these days. Kallus knocked the Colonel down and was running towards the shuttle, where three troopers were now down and the "lieutenant" was helping two others to their feet. Then Thrawn's blaster fired, blue stun rings taking the Agent down. Thrawn did not slow down, running for the shuttle and firing at it, but this time the blasts were.. turned away? The obviously not a lieutenant was shielding the two troopers as they boarded the shuttle, his hand out as if deploying an invisible shield that turned the stun blasts away. Blast. It was the Jedi. The Padawan. Ezra Bridger. What a catch if they could get him. 

Thrawn evidently had the same idea, keeping firing as if hoping to get through the Jedi’s focus or tiring him out as he moved closer. Bridger called out for Kallus, who was apparently still down after the stun. But Pryce decided to slow down and make doubly sure. Without weapons, there was little she could do to help Thrawn against two armed troopers and a jedi, but she would at least make certain their mole was secured. Thrawn did not manage to get through, but the Jedi realized he lost once another squad of troopers ran into the hangar, and beat a hasty retreat into the shuttle before it took off, escaping the hangar.

Pryce gritted her teeth in frustration, kicking Kallus once in the ribs. He remained still, the stun holding. She resisted the temptation to kick the traitor again, and turned back to Thrawn who was limping closer to them. Arihnda inhaled sharply as she got her first proper look at Thrawn. An ugly bruise was blooming on his left cheekbone, a frightening shade of purple against the paler blue skin. There was a burn mark on the side of his neck, the white uniform singed from a very near miss with a blaster. She had been too dazed and blurry when she came to in the corridor to notice how much damage he had taken from the fight with his droids. Kallus must not only have removed the shutdown code, he must have removed any other restraints as well. “Oh stars, you are hurt. I… shall I call the medics?”

Thrawn demurred with the familiar little curl of his lip that was the closest he usually got to smiling, though he could not entirely hide the strain in his voice. "It is not serious, Governor. ”

Arihnda nodded curtly, hiding her anger under a mask of professionalism. Kallus would pay for hurting Thrawn, preferably before Yularen, who would have final say in the ISB agent's fate, could intervene. The Colonel was still down after Kallus' attack, but was stirring, and she realized she would need to deal with this swiftly. "Grand Admiral, I will see to it that the captive is secured while you and Colonel Yularen are in the medical bay, and await you in the interrogation room.” She turned to the squad of stormtroopers that had belatedly arrived to assist. “You two, take the captive to the detention area! You, call the medics!”

Thrawn blinked slowly at her as she ordered his troopers around but did not immediately voice an objection, and she did not linger to wait for it but stalked off after the disappearing stormtroopers and their captive. The Agent had been a constant thorn in her side, and now he had nearly killed Thrawn with his sabotage. If luck had been against them, she could have walked into that office and found Thrawn's mangled body. Her anger burned like a star.

Kallus was secured in the interrogation cell, with all the care and rough attention of stormtroopers who knew how dangerous an ISB agent could be, and who had just seen the results of the same agent injuring their commanding officer. Pryce waited, clenching her hands until the knuckles whitened, and then ordered the troopers out.

Then she stepped forward, and waited with little patience for the stun to wear off. At the first sign of Kallus stirring, she found great pleasure in slapping his face, hard. "Time to wake up, Agent. Or should I say, Fulcrum?". It felt good, so she did it again. Good, but not enough. Balling her hand, she punched him, her fist landing directly on his cheekbone. Hissing in pain, she stepped back and shook out her hand. At least it probably hurt him as much as her.

“That's for your attempted assassination, traitor," she told her captive, her breathing heavy "And it is only a small taste of what the Empire will do to you. You will pay for you crimes. Painfully. At length. The whole Empire will know your name, so they can curse it."

Kallus blinked blearily, slowly regaining focus. And his first act… was to smirk at her. Then he coughed, spitting out a red-tinged glob, not quite far enough to hit her. “Worth it.”

“Worth it? What could the rebels possibly pay you that makes this betrayal wothwhile? If you think they will somehow come to your rescue before you get your due, you are quite mistaken. Whatever you were trying to do here, you have failed. You are just another cog in the Imperial machine, replaced when it breaks."

The prisoner pulled on his restraints in the tentative way of somebody not really expecting them to give, his tongue running briefly over his lips (split, in one place) and clearing some of the blood from them. "Who are we talking about here, Governor? Me, or you?"

“… What?” She stared at him. Had the blow to the head completely rattled his brain?

"Oh, you're quite right, Governor Pryce. The Empire is a machine. A well-oiled, efficient machine, cold and uncaring, consuming and discarding everyone. Nobody is more than a cog. Not I. Not you. Not even your precious Grand Admiral. One failure, one word in the wrong place, and you are both replaced and forgotten. No, I stand corrected. You are 'made an example of', like that merchant back on Lothal that you tortured and executed to show the Empire what a good little obedient Governor you are."

“Shut up!” The words came out wrong, pitched too high as her throat seemed to close up, a tightness around her chest preventing her from breathing deeply enough.

“Or what, you will kill me?” The smirk returned. “You wanted to know what they paid me, _Governor_ , and why it was worth it. I will tell you.”

The way he spoke her title, as if it was a slur. Goading her. Perhaps trying to push her into losing her temper entirely so she would kill him and prevent him from a worse fate. She would not give him the satisfaction, and turned her back for a moment to regain her composure, trying to _breathe_.

Kallus kept talking. “I've been on Lothal a long time, Governor. I've seen what happens to people, from the lowest farmer to the highest minister. Death and destruction, the uncaring boots of the Empire marching across a landscape of corpses to further the “glory” of the Empire and the power mad Emperor leading it. You're like those little puppets they still use to entertain children, dancing at the ends of strings he's pulling. Oh, the Empire enjoys the trappings of civilization, sure enough. Law and order, proper procedures, no deviations from norm. Grand buildings, glorious parades, plays and operas to enhance the greater glory. An empty shell, all of it, hiding the rot and uncaring evil underneath. All the struggle and striving to meet the cruel demands of the Empire, for nothing. Nothing but death and destruction.”

Arihnda shuddered, composure refusing to return as his morbid words swarmed over her, grim and hopeless. She gritted her teeth, reaching for the anger that had receded under the onslaught of anxiety when he spoke of the merchant and the minister. She remembered their faces. The merchant twisted in fear and pain, Minister Tua and her nervous smiles when she was under pressure.

The Agents voice was weakening, and he paused to cough wetly, then continued between gasps for breath. "There are no cogs, with the rebels. Everybody is unique, irreplaceable. They care, Governor, for each other. And for everybody else. They will put everything on the line to help, and in return are helped. Even tried to help me, today. Could see past the uniform. Could see _me_. It's they… who are the honorable ones.”

When the silence lasted, Pryce finally found enough composure to turn around. Kallus hung limply in his restraints, and it occurred to her belatedly that her kick to his ribs while he was stunned might have caused some internal damage. That would not do at all, if he died after she was alone with him, _she_ would be the one in trouble. Worriedly, she stepped close, grasping his jaw to lift his face up. As she did, his eyes fluttered half open, and that impossible smirk tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. Annoying, familiar. With a start she realized why it was familiar. That was the way Thrawn looked when he was imperfectly hiding his amusement. The same curve to the lips. And that bruise on the prisoners cheekbone, on the same side as Thrawn's injury, was rapidly turning purple.

Arihnda was not given to flights of fancy or an active imagination, nor did she believe in prophecy or visions. But right then and there, it was as if a second image superimposed itself on the real one, and it was as if she saw Thrawn before her. Bound, bruised, futilely struggling against the bonds that held him. But still unbeaten and defiant, still fighting for survival against an uncaring Empire that saw him as less than human, as someone who constantly had to prove himself worthy, who had to advance at all costs because the only option was utter defeat. Just like she did.

_They care._

Backing away, she finally turned and left the cell, tersely telling the stormtroopers on guard outside to see to it that the prisoner was given prompt medical attention, and then she went to her cabin. She needed to think.

***

She turned the lights in her cabin down to the lowest setting it could go while still letting her see the outline of her surroundings. And sat down on the edge of her bunk, hands clasped tightly together in her lap.

Kallus was the traitor. An imperial agent, and someone Colonel Yularen held in high esteem. She should be happy, to have Yularen so embarrassed. It was a suitable revenge for Batonn and the other ISB agent pulling a blaster at her. But perhaps Yularen had as little control over that agent as he had over Kallus. They had all been deceived. Who would ever have thought that someone with such a prestigious position in the Empire would fall to treason, for such a bizarre reason?

 _They care_.

Caring was a weakness. It left one vulnerable. Stupid. Believing people who said they cared was even worse. Juahir had pretended to care. Otliss. Renking. Driller.

_I care for you._

Thrawn _._

_I think you care for me._

She had seen those combat droids in action. Even with restraints and codewords they were dangerous, too dangerous. Even for a man like Thrawn. He could have died. Even with his fierce strength and courage. Even with his amazing intellect. He could be dead now, just another cog to replace.

_Will you tell me I am wrong?_

She buried her face in her hands. He had reached out to her. She had fled. Like a coward. Like a child, burned once too often and fearing the fire. Once bitten, twice shy. So many words unsaid. Was it so wrong, to try just once more? With an honorable man, who had done so much to demonstrate his trust and faith in her already?

She sat quietly in the darkness for a long time. And then she rose and left the cabin, the door locking behind her.

***

“I would never have suspected one of my best students would have been capable of this betrayal.”

Colonel Yularen sounded disbelieving, and sad. Governor Pryce remained silent as Thrawn offered what comfort he could, speaking about the way the agent had tricked them all. The tension between the two men was gone, and they spoke quietly for a while before Yularen shook Thrawn’s hand and took his leave to escort their prisoner back to Coruscant to face Imperial justice.

***

Back in his office, Thrawn looked grim and thoughtful. His wounds had been tended, the lingering purple bruise on his cheek and a limp that only showed when he forgot to focus on hiding it all that remained. “We found our mole. The rebels no longer have a spy in our midst. Still, something about this feels wrong. Why did they go to the effort and bother to gain access to my office? I thought they might have been sent by Syndulla to retrieve her family heirloom, but it is still here. I considered that they might have attempted to sabotage the map holding the suspected rebel base locations, but it is intact and the number of planets remains the same." He nodded to the map currently emitted over his desk.

Arihnda looked at the map, not bothering to count the marked planets. She preferred raw data to the projected images, which were pretty but hid too many details. Her own version of the map was a matrix of numbers and facts, analyzed and structured to her satisfaction before being merged with the data in the main map. Which… had not happened since before the rebels broke into this office.

"Grand Admiral, if I may – I have a way to verify that the map is indeed intact. May I access my files from your workstation?"

Thrawn raised an eyebrow, then nodded his permission. She used her code cylinder to authenticate herself and retrieve her version of the map. Leaving the main map up, she summoned a projection of her own, older version. It was out of step, the planets offset and partly overlapping. She entered the necessary commands to sync the two maps together.

They watched as the old map merged with the current one. Blue planet merging with blue, red with red. (And the red changing color ever so subtly. She had not remembered to reset the tweak she had given her own map in her moment of whimsy.) Except for two planets, where blue merged with red, and red with blue, to leave them a vibrant purple. Arihnda checked the raw data on the secondary display, and pointed to one. "That one. It was a high probability before, today it is at zero. The other one was a zero that now has a middling probability." Tapping rapidly through to double-check the data on the planet, she added slowly. "I know this planet. From the old spacer ghost stories and legends. They call it Atollon and the superstitious will go nowhere near it." She looked to Thrawn, triumphantly. "They went out of their way to try to hide it. It is their base."

Thrawn smiled. Not the usual barely-there quirk of his lips, a real smile. "I concur. We have it, Governor. The location of the Rebel base. Because of you." He had been contemplatively touching a finger to his chin while he watched, elbow resting on his other hand, but now he lowered both arms as he moved closer to her.

She looked up at him when he stopped close to her. How different he looked, when he smiled. And how the expression in his strange and beautiful eyes made her stomach tingle, as if her insides had been replaced with a swirl of flower petals or a fluttering of tiny wings. And how wrong it felt, for him to call her Governor and cautiously stay formal and impersonal around her. But how could she blame him? Not once since his declaration after the Archeon Nebula had she given him any sign that she was open to his attentions. That she… cared, in return. There was no denying that to herself any more.

Words were so very hard. She took a small step forward, closing the remaining distance between them, and touched her hand to his chest. Which expanded as he drew a deep breath, perhaps of surprise. She curled her fingers against the fabric, and said at last. "Because of _us_. Together. You and I." Summoning all her courage, she continued. "I think you were right. About us. And I… would like maybe to explore that some more, too."

Thrawn watched her intently. And then he raised his hands, taking her face gently between them. He leaned a little closer, then paused, searching her eyes for approval. And suddenly, it was the most natural thing in the world to raise on tip-toe, meeting him halfway. Her lips parted, as did his, and he leaned down and kissed her. And it was gentle, and lingering, and utterly, utterly perfect.

When they finally paused, she pulled back a little, watching his mouth. All this time, she had admired his eyes, his skin, his elegant hands. But somehow, she had never noticed the beauty of his mouth before. Those perfect lips, now curling up into another small smile under her regard. And she closed in to kiss him again, hungrily this time. When he did not move quickly enough to suit her, she took hold of his head and pulled it down, annoyed for a fraction of a second that she could not get a proper hold on his short hair.

But that moment was forgotten when he pulled her close in return, strong arms enveloping her as she pressed happily against him. They lingered in the kiss, hands slowly exploring the contours of each others bodies. Arihnda had just started giving serious thought to getting rid of some of those annoying layers of clothing that prevented them from touching properly, when Thrawn finally broke off. He still held her close, speaking softly.

“As much as I would like to continue this, Arihnda, we are on a schedule now.” She made a small sound of protest, but he continued. “The rebels will either know or suspect that their spy has been compromised. If they have reason to believe he knows the location of their base they will be in a hurry to evacuate it. We need to reach Atollon as quickly as possible, with the full fleet, including the slower interdictors. Which means… we must leave _now_.” He brushed his fingertips lightly over her face, as if memorizing the shape of it. “I am sorry. But after our victory, I would like to… resume. If that is agreeable to you.”

Arihnda felt a giggle bubble up irresistibly at the formal choice of words, bursting over her lips and turning into an odd little squeak as she tried to stifle it. To cover it, she stood on tiptoe again, quickly stealing a last kiss. “Yes, it is most agreeable. And victory cannot come soon enough.”

***

“Grand Admiral, I have a suggestion to make, on the deployment of the ships. If I could have a brief word with you in private?”

“As you wish, Governor.” Thrawn remained behind as the rest of the command staff departed the strategy room, raising an eyebrow at Arihnda when they were finally alone, standing side by side at the tactical map table that was still active in the middle of the room.

“We really are rather short on time…”, he commented quietly, even has he placed his hand over hers where it rested at the edge of the table. “We will arrive on Atollon in little more than an hour, and there are still preparations to make.

Arihnda smiled wryly in return. “Unfortunately, this really is about the deployment of the ships.” Her smile faded. “This is not the best time to tell you, but I have been looking into some of your senior officers since joining the Chimaera.” She ignored his frown as she continued. “Good people, most of them. I have done my best to smooth their ways with Coruscant, as I have for you. But for some, I have learned things that I meant to bring up before you with a view to have them removed from the Seventh. And I must implore you not to leave Konstantine in command of the second interdictor. The man is close to breaking, and this battle might be what tips him over the edge. Place him somewhere else, where he can do no damage, and place someone you truly trust in charge of the interdictor. As you have just explained to us, they are the critical component of your plan, if we are to take out the whole rebel fleet at once and leave them no way to flee.”

Thrawn was silent as he studied her, considering her words. She worried that it might not be enough, and tried to think of other arguments she could make, to make him do as she hoped. But then he nodded slowly, and agreed. “I will do as you suggest. Commander Faro is already in command of the first interdictor. And _you_ will take the second.”

“… Me?” She reeled in surprise. “But after Archeon… surely, there are others you would trust more with command of a ship this important.”

“It is a simple enough assignment. The interdictors have their fixed positions compared to the planet, and the rest of the fleet has been ordered to protect them by any means from the inevitable attempt to disable the gravity well projectors. Making them the safest place to be, and the least challenging to command.” He clasped her hand, raising it until he could place a warm kiss against her palm. Then another below it, where the pulse now fluttered faster in her wrist. “I want you to be safe.”

“Thrawn…” She had meant it, when she said she only wished to discuss the deployment of ships. But her resolve wavered under the warm touch of his lips, and she could not help herself, pressing close again to steal a proper kiss. And another. Before either of them quite knew what happened she was sitting at the edge of the table, leaning back on one hand as the other tightened on his hair, holding onto him as he kissed his way down her throat until he hit the barrier of her uniform collar. Impatiently, he pulled her jacket open, exposing her throat and a pale triangle of skin down to the top of her undershirt. He continued the interrupted path of kisses as she flushed under his attentions, sliding her hand down his back to tug at his jacket. She wanted to touch him properly, at last, skin to skin.

A loud chime interrupted them before they could go farther. The one hour warning. Breathing unsteadily, she watched the blue and red projected light of the map slide over Thrawn’s face as he slowly straightened, reluctantly disengaging.

“Later.” She knew it for an oath and a promise, as he quickly straightened his clothing and ran his hands over his hair, then headed out onto the bridge to make the change of plans known.

She buttoned her own jacket and patted at her hair, deciding to linger behind another minute or two after he left so the blush had time to fade. And to process that Thrawn had actually put her in charge of an interdictor. She had only meant to head off the trouble she could see coming with the inept Admiral Konstantine and his seething resentment against the Grand Admiral. She was in no way qualified to captain a ship during a major engagement like this. But Thrawn knew this, and had still chosen her to at least formally be in charge.

He must have great trust in his assessment that the interdictor would have no active role in the battle, and that the regular crew and officers of the ship would know how to handle what needed doing. And he trusted _her_. Beyond just wanting to…… resume. A warm tingle and another impulse to giggle followed the thought, but this time she managed to fight both down. She needed all her faculties together so she could give her best possible performance for the task he had given her. She would not fail him, this time. And then, they would finally be together.

***

The rebels had started the preparations to evacuate their base, but not in time. By the time their first ships tried to take off, the interdictors were in place, their gravity wells preventing any attempt to reach hyperspace. And the rest of the fleet made short work of those ships that tried to break the blockade to gain enough distance from the gravity projectors. What appeared to be a rebel command ship made a valiant attempt at ramming the interdictor under Pryce’s command, but as Thrawn had promised the rest of the fleet moved to intercept it, leaving it little more than an expanding cloud of golden motes before it could present a real threat.

Arihnda watched events from the bridge of her interdictor, listening to the reports coming in from the Chimaera and the other ships. She did her best to try to anticipate events, based on the thorough briefing the Grand Admiral had given, and her own forays into studying the process of starship battles after the Creekpath events. It pleased her that she understood more now, beyond the confusing movements of markers on a tactical display that was all she had grasped from the battle over Batonn. And so it was that she noticed a small rebel fighter attempting to sneak past at the very moment the rebel command ship was disintegrated. In vain, as the gravity projectors were undamaged and holding. Another of her guardian ships moved to intercept it, the little fighter helplessly caught in the tractor beam as it was reeled in and captured.

The orbital bombardment of Atollon started, the rebels somehow managing to bring up a defensive shield at the last moment. And a message came on on the secure channel from the Chimaera that the captured rebel had been none other than the Jedi Ezra Bridger, who apparently had tried to make a break for it to summon help from elsewhere. Thrawn, Faro and Pryce briefly discussed whether they should let him “escape”, to see if that would bring in more rebels that they could mop up. But in the end, the risk was judged too great, and the decision was made to transfer Bridger to the Chimaera for further interrogation after the battle was over.

Not much longer, and the rebel shield showed the first signs of failure, gaps briefly opening and closing in the energy field. It would be mere minutes now, before Thrawn gave Syndulla and her people a last chance to surrender or be obliterated. Pryce wondered which they would choose. So self-destructive and inclined to gamble with their own lives — yet she believed Kallus when he had said they cared for and protected each other. Which would win out, their hatred of the Empire or their softness?

The firing continued. There was a terse report from the Chimaera that the Jedi had broken free from his cell, and that troopers were being deployed to stop him. Thrawn seemed unconcerned, and did not let the incident affect the bombardment of Atollon. The shield went down. And all went silent, as the Seventh Fleet stopped firing. The deciding moment was at hand — would the rebels surrender, or defiantly go to their doom?

And that was when the purgill attacked.

Suddenly, the space between the planet and the Seventh Fleet was filled with the most bizarre beings Arihnda had ever seen. Immense creatures that looked like they belonged at the depths of some immense ocean, somehow moving gracefully through the vacuum of space. Their own visible means of propulsion were sets of giant tentacles clustered at the rear of their oblong bodies and glowing in shifting patterns that did not quite seem to be random.

The comms erupted in shouts, questions and confusing giving way to screams as the giant beings closed on the ships, ignoring the firing cannons to wrap immense tentacles around everything from the smallest shuttle to the largest Star Destroyers. Including, Arihnda realized to her horror, the Chimaera itself. And one by one the shifting patterns on each purgill turned into a steady glow, perhaps a signal, before the creatures vanished back where they had come, with the brief flicker of pseudomotion signalling a jump to hyperspace.

One of the biggest beasts turned and headed straight for the bridge of her interdictor, tentacles spreading out as if to embrace it. But then at the very last minute it… flinched? And turned away, arching around the ship as if to approach it from another vector.

Arihnda ran over to the closest tactical display. So few ships left, only the biggest that were slowly being towed away before flickering and disappearing. The Chimaera was among them. But… not Faros interdictor. The purgill were avoiding that as well, swarming around it in a puzzled way.

“It’s the gravity wells! They can’t get close to them! Call Faro, tell her to move towards the Chimaera! We are too far away, but perhaps she can stop them.” She called to the crew, who hurried to obey.

 Gnawing her knuckle, she watched the display as the other interdictor slowly turned and gathered speed, moving towards the flagship. Slow, so slow… Too slow. It had barely closed half the necessary distance before the purgill embracing the Chimaera flickered once, then vanished. And the Chimaera with it.

***

In the end, the two interdictors, last survivors of the Seventh Fleet, had to make a desperate run for it as the rebels realized what had happened and launched a wave of ships to pursue them. The fled into hyperspace at the last moment, heading for a rendezvous well away from the trafficked hyperlanes or any of their earlier locations that could be known to the rebels. Or the Empire.

“We cannot go home. The loss of the Seventh Fleet will not be forgiven. We could hope for nothing better than a swift death.” Arihnda looked to Karyn Faro, who seemed remarkably unperturbed at the thought.

"You may be right, Governor. I don’t see that we could have done anything different, but the Emperor does not suffer failure or accept excuses. So the question is, what do we do now?" The measuring look the Commander gave Pryce made her feel as if she was being put to the test somehow.

It didn’t matter. Arihnda was in no doubt as to what she wanted to do. The Emperor could go hang, and the rebels with him. All she cared for was to find the Seventh Fleet. The Chimaera. _Thrawn_. “There must be something we can do to find them. Someone who knows where those creatures live. What controls them.” Her hands clenched and unclenched in frustration as she started walking up and down the meeting room, as Faro turned from the table to watch her. “What resources do we have? What can we do?”

Commander Faro finally cleared her throat, and spoke slowly. “I… might know someone. Who knows someone. Who might have the resources.”

Pryce turned to her, blinking. “What someone? Not an Imperial?”

“Once. Not anymore.” Faro gave Pryce a long, considering look. “I know where Eli Vanto went. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s former aide. And I know how to reach him, in an emergency. I believe this qualifies.”

Pryce frowned. “What could he possibly do for us? A single former Lieutenant Commander, I believe his rank was before he went AWOL?”

“Not Vanto himself. The people he now serves with. They are known as the Chiss Ascendancy. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s people.”

Finally, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Arihnda stilled her clenching hands, trying to think. “They… exiled him, did they not? Why is Vanto with them? Do you really think they would help us?”

Faro spoke slowly. “I don’t know. But it’s the best suggestion I have. Vanto had the Grand Admirals complete confidence, and cared for him deeply in return. If anyone can persuade them to help us, he can.” The briefest of smiles touched Faro’s lips. “And if nothing else, an interdictor is a most valuable thing, rare even with the resources of the Empire. We could trade them one, and still have another for ourselves to hunt down purgills.”

Arihnda finally smiled in return, a grim and determined thing. “I like your thinking, Commander. Yes. Call Vanto. Get him to talk to the Chiss. And then we will do what is needed to find the Seventh Fleet and its survivors.”

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that we bid a fond adieu to canon and head off into unexplored territory.


	4. Interlude at Port Rokovoko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arihnda loses her job and starts a new one, doing what she does best -- making friends with dangerous people.

"Call me Arihnda".

It had been a long journey, what sleep she could get uneasy and filled with disturbing dreams. Arihnda Pryce found herself short on sleep and temper, and in no mood for games. So when she finally tracked down her target holding court in a spacer’s bar near the port of Rokovoko, she abandoned her convoluted cover story in favor of a very abridged version of the truth.

From the look of the place, the truth would be the last thing anyone would expect. The bar seemed to consist entirely of dark corners, with beings of many species and various degrees of obscuring clothing conducting their business with lowered voices and furtive glances at their surroundings. There had been places like this on Lothal once, until the Empire had asserted control and cleaned them all out. But the Empire had no power here — fortunately for both herself and her contact, who was currently regarding her thoughtfully.

"And I’m Maris." The womans voice was smooth and cultured, with the vestiges of a core world accent. She appeared to be around Arihnda’s own age or perhaps a little older, judging by the strands of gray winding through her dark hair. Her clothing was casual, leatheris jacket and boots showing signs of wear, and the earth-toned trousers and scarf appeared to have been chosen for durability rather than fashion. But her poise was regal and filled with easy confidence, and the handful of people sharing their table clearly deferred to Maris. "Word is, you have been looking for me. A friend of a friend was quite enthusiastic in his recommendations that we meet, in fact. I can only assume he has been well paid for his enthusiasm, which is otherwise in short supply. So now I’m quite curious: What brings you here, Arihnda?"

The former Governor of Lothal resisted the temptation to look around furtively herself before answering. The unnerving prickling feeling at the back of her neck was most likely the result of being closely watched by the person she had mentally dubbed "the bodyguard"; a tall person of uncertain species who was covered head to toe in armor and helmet of a dark purplish yellow color, covered here and there with large black squares. He had not spoken so far, and had been briskly efficient in patting her down before she was allowed to approach Maris. Arihnda determinedly suppressed the feeling and replied. "I believe we can be of mutual assistance. I am looking for information, particularly pertaining to an area near the Unknown Regions that you are said to have unique knowledge of. And I have… shall we say, technology that is of interest to parties our mutual friend says you are in contact with." She idly drew a semi-circle with her fingertip in some spilled liquid on the worn table, then another mirroring it before wiping both out.

Maris narrowed her eyes briefly, then leaned back. "You do get straight to the point. Rather too straight, for a total stranger with only a tenuous recommendation to back her up." She looked beyond Arihnda at the helmeted man, apparently communicating something silently. Then she made a small gesture to the other at the table. "Mmm. Very well, let's have a talk." The others at the table grabbed their drinks and shuffled off, though Arihnda could still feel the presence of the bodyguard behind her. "I'll be straight as well. What is this technology, that it would be worth the time and risk for me to broker it?"

Arihnda adjusted the gray scarf she had loosely wrapped around her head, her sole concession to a disguise along with a civilian outfit borrowed from a Chimaera crewmember. Then said quietly. "An Imperial Lambda-class shuttle, fully equipped."

There was a resounding silence, as Maris and her guard exchanged looks again. "Huh. And what is it you expect in return?"

"A civilian craft with a hyperdrive. Nothing fancy. Inconspicuous. Credits." Arihnda hesitated, then added "And a map of known and suspected Purrgil migration trails near the Unknown Regions. Our mutual friend tells me you have some personal experience in that regard."

For the first time, the masked guard made a sound, a sort of growling hiss of undeniable menace. Maris raised a hand, and he subsided while Arihnda was still trying to make her mind up about whether she should get out of her seat to be ready to defend herself. "No, let's hear her out, Ru. This is weird enough that I just might think it’s true. You can back up your claims about this shuttle, Arihnda?"

"I have the access codes. And will take you to the location myself, once I have a replacement craft, with whatever precautions you deem necessary. You have a solid reputation for keeping your end of bargains, though I have of course taken precautions of my own." She pulled a dataspike out of her sleeve, placing it on the table. "Data on the shuttle, and half of the necessary codes. The rest on arrival."

Maris considered. Then took the spike, turning it around in her hands slowly. "Consider me intrigued. Enough to make some inquiries. Come back tomorrow at the same time, and we will speak again." Dismissed, Arihnda rose and turned to leave, scowling at the bodyguard until he stepped out of her way with apparent reluctance.

 

***

 

Arihnda stepped out of the bar, glancing up at the darkening sky above. The conversation had gone as well as could be expected, and now there was nothing to do but wait. Weariness dragged at her feet as she made her way to the cheap hotel she had made her base of operations for the hopefully short stay at the port.

The last several days at been a flurry of activity. She and Faro knew they would have a limited window of opportunity before the Empire realized the interdictors had not met the same fate as the rest of the Seventh Fleet over Atollon. Word would get out eventually, if nothing else then through the bragging of the victorious rebels. Once they were known to be AWOL rather than a victim of enemy action, they would be hunted as relentlessly by Imperial forces as the rebels. They had until then to establish a line of supply and the contacts they needed to operate independently of the Empire until they either gained the cooperation of the Chiss, or located the Chimaera.

The first matter they had dealt with was pruning the crew. Some members of the crew would rather take their chances with the Empire than hunt for their lost Grand Admiral, even given the high likelihood that the wrath of the Emperor would descend on them for their failure at Atollon. The loyalty officers in particular needed dealing with, and some of the political appointment and officers who felt their connections would protect them. Pryce and Faro had butted heads over that, with Arihnda favoring spacing the lot as dead men tell no tales. Faro favored less drastic measures. In the end, Arihnda had given in rather than try to force the issue. Faro had the loyalty of the crew and knew how to run a ship, what little inroads Pryce had made in making friends on the Chimaera was of little use to her on the Ebon Shade and the Preceptor. And, she had to admit to herself, she would have made a very poor fleet commander of their tiny remnant of the Seventh. So in the end Faro had her way, and the suspect members of the crew were dropped off on an unpopulated planet with enough supplies for two months and an orbital buoy to send a distress call once that period was nearly up. By then, the interdictors would be long gone.

When they had discussed options for establishing a support network outside of Imperial channels, Arihnda had remembered the work she did when trying to refine Thrawn's map of possible rebel base locations. She had contacts in this region, both gray and official. And memories of spacer's tales, including those of mighty beasts that haunted the hyperlanes and sometimes caused ships to disappear or get knocked out of hyperspace. So in the end, she had presented Faro with a plan to exchange one of their shuttles for a more inconspicuous vehicle that could be used for further business outside of Imperial scrutiny. And some untraceable credits — warships did not come with copious amounts of credits for discreet use.

Hunting down the purrgil maps had been a last minute inspiration. Word was that some smugglers had made it a sport to follow the purrgil in the hopes of discovering new hyperlanes outside of the known ones, particularly through nebulae and star factories that the usual mapping expeditions avoided. A private hyperlane through a rough patch of space would be of immeasurable value to smugglers and others operating outside the law. And one of her contacts had finally put her in touch with Maris Ferasi, who had an honest reputation (for a smuggler) and extensive knowledge of space outside the charted lanes. Hopefully, she would have something of a bonus for Faro when she returned. If they knew where the purrgil were most likely to travel, it would give them their best clue yet as to where they could have taken the Seventh Fleet. And Thrawn.

Locking herself in the spartan hotel room, she kicked her shoes off and threw the borrowed long coat and scarf on the single chair. She wavered between the bed and the bathroom, but exhaustion won and she lay down on the bed, turning the lights off. The thought that she had forgotten to do something did not quite finish forming before she fell asleep.

 

***

 

She woke to the sound of a loud crash, and the door slamming open. With a gasp, she rolled over the side of the bed, scrambling blearily up into a crouch as two intruders entered the room, splitting to approach her from different sides as far as was possible in the confined space. A Rodian and a Human, roughly dressed and carrying stun-sticks. She started to move for her blaster on the nightstand — which was empty. Her blood ran cold as she remembered locking it away in her case at the urgings of her contact, who had cautioned strongly against bringing a blaster to her meeting at the bar. She'd been so tired when she returned, she'd forgotten to retrieve it.

Backing away until she was wedged in the corner of the room, she focused on her attackers, looking for some opening. Sticks, not blasters. She could take at least one of them out. Probably. If only she could focus. Exhaustion was losing the battle against adrenaline, but not quickly enough. Letting herself sag a little, she pretended to be more confused and frightened than she actually felt, hoping the deception would give her some edge.

The Rodian attacked first, activating his stick and swinging at her. She leapt from her half-crouch, dodging the blow and striking the side of her arm as hard as she could against his elbow, then rolled over the bed to get at her other attacker. Or tried to — at the last moment, her foot caught in a fold of sheets, and she stumbled gracelessly down to find herself on the floor. She looked up at the grim face of the second attacker and the glow of his stun-stick as it descended, too fast for her to block.

… and then there was the sound of blaster fire, and a heavy weight impacting on her as her attacker fell, the stick missing her by centimeters. A second blast, and a thud that might have been that of the rodian hitting the floor. Cursing, she pushed at the dead weight of the Human attacker, the last of the exhaustion finally burned from her system. Suddenly, the weight was gone, and a familiar purple and yellow armor with black squares filled her field of vision as Maris' bodyguard pulled the body away from her. He held a blaster in his left hand, silently offering her his right to help her up.

She ignored the offer, getting to her feet on her own and pulling her rumpled clothing into place as well as she could. She looked from the guard to the bodies on the floor and to the half-open door. There appeared to be no other immediate danger. "Thank you. I think. How did you… why are you here?"

The man flipped a toggle on his blaster and put it back into its holster with easy familiarity. His voice held the slight distortion of a helmet speaker as he replied. "Followed you. Fish out of water. Maris thought you'd need a watchful eye. Was right."

Arihnda ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it out as best as she could. "Yes. Well. Thank you again." She fought down a brief flash of annoyance at the embarrassing but correct observation, and cleared her throat. "What now?"

"Get your things. Taking you to Maris."

Clenching her fists in frustration, Arihnda stared at the faceless helmet. "How do I know I can trust you? I have no intention of walking out from one trap into another. Whose side are you on?"

The man was silent for a while. No, she realized. Not silent. Communicating. The helmet had a built-in comm, like the stormtrooper ones. Then he nodded slowly, and raised his hands to release the fastenings of his helmet. And lifted it off his head, revealing — blue skin, black hair, red eyes. Chiss. For a breathless moment she thought it was Thrawn, but when the helmet was fully off she realized this was a younger man. With different features, including eyes with epicantic folds.

"My name is Nuru Kungurama. Husband of Maris Ferasi. We know who you are, Governor Pryce. And if Maris is right, we have a shared interest. Time to talk."

 

 

_\-- to be continued --_

 

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this counts as chapter 3.5 since it wasn't in the original outline. I just needed to get all the Moby Dick jokes out of my system before commencing The Hunt for Thrawn. Well, most of them.


End file.
